Seven Little Killers
by Lucky-Angel135
Summary: This story will not have a happy ending, love. I just can't see it on the horizon, and anything that I can't see isn't there. Yellow's Arc.
1. The Killer Clown

Hello, this is a conjoint fanfiction written by me, **AngelWhoIsNotASerialKiller **and **luckystars135 **which contributes to our awesome combined screen name,

**Lucky-Angel135**

This story is a complete history AU that takes place modern day. Bosses will be fictional characters, and although there will be true historical events mentioned, most of it is rather inaccurate, but that's where the fun comes from! :D

Threat in this fic is the Austro-Hungarian Empire rebuilding in attempts to regain power and help Germany with the unfair reparations. Hope you like! let us know what you think. Anything constructive would work even if it's just _lol update11!!_

**Pairings** (Because we know that's what you came for XD)

**RussiaxChina, JapanxAmerica, JapanxGreece **(This is still a maybe, but it's looking pretty juicy for the plot)**, EnglandxFrance, GermanyxNorth Italy **(Figured this was kind of a given, but might as well put it here anyway)**, RomanoxSpain, HungaryxAustria, and that's it so far! **

Some are still up for debate, so just leave your two cents and we'll be sure to consider it.

**Disclaimer**: If only we had the balls and the creativity to come up with Hetalia, but we don't so we don't own.

* * *

Switzerland gave a growl before letting his forehead slam onto his desk with a loud thump. The horrid paperwork he had been neglecting towered around his exhausted form, mocking him the way most unwanted inanimate objects do; silently and patiently awaiting Switzerland's inevitable attention.

As usual, the drained nation was agitated, but today's agitation was for once not caused by creepy Italians running through his yard without pants, or the genuine stupidity of everyone he was forced into contact with, but with his own bosses. Switzerland hadn't been in a war since 1815, and though for the most part he enjoyed his neutrality, this issue was different.

The phone rang shrilly, causing Switzerland's already pounding head to throb even more cruelly. He had the sudden urge to pull out his gun and shoot the damn thing. Sadly, he doubted his boss would appreciate having yet another piece of equipment replaced, and without lifting his head, reached for the receiver.

His hand fell on top of the phone limply, knocking it off the hook and sending it clattering across his desk. Switzerland groaned in irritation, before his wandering fingers found the receiver and regrettably brought it to his ear.

"Hello," he mumbled darkly into the wood of his desk. If only there _were_ some half-naked Italians for him to play target practice with, then maybe he could alleviate some of this unbearable stress.

"Brother, it's me."

"Liechtenstein." He sat up abruptly at the sound of his sister's soft voice. "What's wrong?" he demanded. "Have Austria and Hungary been bullying you?"

"Well," she began, her gentle voice laced with worry. "They've been really busy trying to reconstruct their conjoint governments, but they have sent some people…to…uh…"

"Liechtenstein," he murmured with unusual gentleness. She was the only other nation he was able to stand for long periods of time and he never ceased to worry about her, especially now when he was absolutely useless in protecting her.

For awhile, Austria and Hungary had been trying to reconstruct the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and though at first it had been no concern of Switzerland's, recently they two nations had taken interest in his younger sister.

He was uncomfortably aware of how close Austria and Liechtenstein were economically, and through the various treaties she informed him of, also knew that if Austria and Hungary started claiming lands again, she'd be one of the first. Despite how small she was, Liechtenstein was one of Austria's largest exporters, and everyday over 7,000 of Austria's people came to her for work.

"Have they threatened you?" he asked lowly, terrified to know the answer. He opened the drawer to his desk and picked up a bullet, rolling it in-between his fingers in an effort to occupy his hands.

"Not exactly," Liechtenstein assured quietly. She sounded so tired and Switzerland wanted nothing more than to go and do his best to comfort her. He was her big brother after all, it was his job as a sibling to keep Liechtenstein safe, but as a nation, he had an obligation to his people. They wanted him neutral, just as they always did. He had to obey.

"What's been happening?"

"They've made offers."

"What kind of offers?"

"Okay…not exactly offers." He heard her gulp from the other end. His hand tightened on the receiver and his ever-present frown deepened. "That's actually why I'm calling."

"So they have threatened you," he stated quietly, clenching the hand toying with the bullet into a fist.

"Brother-" she began.

"They did, didn't they?" he heard his voice get louder.

Liechtenstein didn't respond for a moment, but Switzerland knew with bitter self-loathing that he had upset her. Her breathing had turned labored and shaky, as if she was trying not to cry.

"Liech-"

"Austria threatened to place an embargo on me if I didn't join!" she interrupted, her silence shattered by her sudden outburst.

"Dammit!" Switzerland swore, slamming his fist into his desk, before letting a frustrated hand run through his blond hair. "He's supposed to be your ally! All three of us signed treaties to help each other! He can't just place an embargo on you because you won't join something that didn't work. I thought World War I would be enough to convince them!"

"Switzerland," Liechtenstein began. "I…if Austria places an embargo on my exports…"

"You'll lose about 479.3 million francs," he sighed, his frown fading into a look of pure worry. "And about 36.9 percent of your imports come from Austria."

"I…I don't know what to do, Brother," she said, her voice quivering. "Austria is important to me. He's my friend, but I don't want to be part of his empire with Hungary."

"He doesn't sound like much of a friend to me," Switzerland snarled, his previous look of worry returning to its usual frown. He heard his sister sniff from the other end and felt his heart break. She was the most important thing to him besides his people. He hated that Austria had taken advantage of their good relations by threatening to practically bankrupt her economy.

If he had his way, he'd march down to the prissy little snot's house and blow his brains out. Unfortunately, neutral was neutral and he prayed that the rebirth of the Austro-Hungarian Empire would not mean yet another Europe-wide war. It had been exhausting to stay neutral through _that _little disagreement.

"I don't know what to do," she repeated hopelessly, the static hissing as she released a breath.

"Me neither," Switzerland admitted, closing his eyes and roughly rubbing his temples. "My bosses are keeping me neutral."

"So you can't help me," she murmured.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized quietly. It was the worst feeling in the world, not being able to help his own sister.

"No, Brother, don't be. I understand," she assured quickly. "Actually, it's you I'm worried about."

"Me?" He felt his chest grow tight. She was always worried about him, just as he was always worried about her. Even when she was the one in danger, he was one of her top concerns, second only to her people. Switzerland would have fought all of Europe to protect her if it was his choice, but the curse of a nation was the curse of servitude.

"Yes you, silly."

"But why? You're the one in trouble." He raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"You have treaties with Austria too."

"Yeah, but-"

A sudden crashing noise made him jump slightly in his chair, causing him to nearly drop the receiver. He clawed at it in midair for a few brief seconds before clumsily bringing it back to his ear.

"Hello? Liechtenstein, are you still there?" he asked, fearing he had accidentally hung up on her.

"Yeah, but what was that?"

"I think someone's in my house," he replied, opening yet another drawer to his desk and withdrawing his gun. The noise had obviously come from the kitchen, the unmistakable clanging of pots and pans hitting hard tile confirming his suspicions.

"Oh, please be careful!" Liechtenstein warned, her voice laced with concern.

"Don't worry," Switzerland said, readying his gun. "It's probably just France again."

"Okay, but still."

"I'll be careful, alright?" He felt a fond smile tugging at the corner of his lips at his sister's needless worry. If anything, he needed something to shoot at, and chasing France off his property might prove nothing less than therapeutic. He wasn't as good as a half-naked Italian, but he'd have to do. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Um, Vash?" Liechtenstein questioned timidly, her breathing still rather harsh. Switzerland paused at his real name.

"Huh? What is it?"

"I," he heard her swallow again as he pressed a few bullets into the gun's chamber. "No matter what happens…I…I love you. I love you so much." Switzerland felt his usual harsh look change into an involuntary smile. An infinite amount of care surged through him, entwined with pangs of inescapable guilt. His eyes shadowed and his affectionate smile turned to one of sorrow. Why did he have to be so useless?

"I love you too," he replied warmly, doing his best to keep his own voice from shaking. He was the strong one, he had to be for both of them. "I'll talk to you later." He grabbed his hat from the corner of his chair and placed it on top of his head.

"Goodbye, Brother," she whispered before hanging up. Placing the phone back on the hook, he caulked his weapon and stormed out of his office towards the kitchen. His boots pounded on the floor as he went, thoughts of Liechtenstein shoved to the back of his head. Right now, a certain Frenchman was going to die and take a week's worth of stress with him.

"France!" Switzerland hollered, his piercing green eyes swiveling around his home as he entered the kitchen.

_The bastard got the fine china, _he thought angrily, spotting shattered ceramics across the floor. Those had been a gift from England, and Switzerland knew he'd never hear the end of the other nation's whining if he found out his gift had been destroyed. The thought of it made Switzerland groan out loud. It was completely childish. Just the fact the china once belonged to England was motive enough for France to break it.

"France, you have five seconds to find a window to crawl out of or I'm coming after you!" he warned. "Remember the last time?" Looking around the kitchen, he spotted the sink and was annoyed to find it running. Pots and pans also littered his once spotless kitchen, mingling with the shattered remains of England's plates and saucers.

Hurrying over to the sink, Switzerland turned it off and stalked around for a moment, opening cabinets and drawers. Checking the higher pantries to make sure nothing else was out of place or that the exceedingly promiscuous nation hadn't left him any 'pleasurable gifts', Switzerland flinched as he heard even more commotion coming from his sitting room. Snarling angrily, he shut the pantry harder than necessary and brought his gun to his chest.

"You have until the count of five to leave, or I'm going to tear this place apart!" As if directly challenging his threat, there was even more crashing, and Switzerland heard the unmistakable shatter of glass. Well, there went Austria's pretty little music box. Oh well, France could break anything that belonged to Austria, or Hungary for that matter.

"One," he began.

There was a fury of footsteps heading up the stairs.

"Two."

Directly over his head there was an quick pounding, followed by a louder thud. It almost seemed as if the intruder was looking for something.

"Three."

More thuds, but at least there was no loud squeal alerting him to someone entering his room. Switzerland always kept the hinges on his bedroom door loud. That way if he was asleep, he could hear an approaching attack. He nearly shuddered as he recalled the last time he woke up with France standing over him. As soon as he thought it, there was the unmistakable screech of his door hinges. That was the final straw.

"Five!" he yelled, skipping right past four and hurrying towards the stairs. Nobody went into his room, not if they didn't like dodging bullets. "France, you've crossed the line!" Pressing his hat more securely on top of his head, Switzerland raced up the stairs and turned down the hall until he was standing outside his bedroom.

Sure enough, his door was wide open, revealing the mess that lay inside. All his items had been knocked to the floor, while his dresser and nightstand lay overturned, the drawers ripped from the frame with clothes piled against the walls. His bed was in even worse shape, the mattress overturned and his sheets spread out around the floor.

"Dammit!" he swore, heading inside to inspect the damage. Keeping his gun ready, he was relieved that nothing was really broken. It was just going to be a bitch to clean up. The intruder was nowhere in sight, but that didn't mean they were gone. A slight breeze ruffled his hair, and he looked towards his large bedroom window, surprised to find it open.

The soft drapes were fluttering gently against the opening like twin ghosts. The outward swinging panes moved from side to side, indicating that the intruder had taken his advice and escaped to whatever hole they originally crawled out of. Switzerland wasn't able to hold down a bought of disappointment at the lack of shooting involved, and stepped over various items to look outside.

Everything seemed peaceful enough as he gazed out into the midst of Bern. Night was just beginning to settle over his capital and he let out a sigh. Liechtenstein came back to mind, and he hoped there was some way she could solve her issues with Austria. Switzerland wondered if she was staring out into her own capital city of Vaduz, worried and exhausted. If only he was able to help her. If only he was allowed to tell Austria to back off, but as much as he loved his sister, he loved his people as well. A nation's life was a life of servitude, but also a life of responsibility.

Realizing he had been distracted, Switzerland was about to turn around and attempt to tidy up, when he spotted something glowing in the distance. It was coming from the Zytglogge clock tower, although it was still too far away to be identifiable.

"What the…?" He narrowed his eyes and leaned against the windowsill. Then, with dawning horror, realized what it was. His eyes grew wide as a wave of pain crashed down on him. He dropped his gun with a clatter as he fell to his knees, clutching his chest in agony.

Switzerland hadn't been in this kind of pain since France invaded with Napoleon all those many years ago. His chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself, while nausea forced him to cover his mouth with a trembling hand. It did little good, and his body rebelled, forcing him to forfeit his dinner. Tears were streaming down his face as he forced himself to his feet, knees quivering uncontrollably.

Switzerland stumbled away from the window, gasping for air and clutching his aching sides. The bitter taste of bile was in his mouth as he leaned against the wall opposite to the window. The glowing in the distance was a fire. He was being invaded. Already he heard the screams of his people, and in his mind he saw his flag burning. The red banner with the white cross was licked viciously by the orange flames, becoming nothing more than ashes.

He was being invaded, but by who? Austria and Hungary were rebuilding their empire, but they were interested in Liechtenstein, not him. Besides, he knew Austria would never attack someone who didn't expect it. Tears continued to trickle down his cheeks as he threw his head back and screamed, tortuous spasms wracking his body. Who ordered this? No one had declared war on him and he was completely neutral.

Forcing his feet forward, he attempted to get back to his gun, but froze as he heard his closet door open painstakingly slow. The loud hinges creaked and Switzerland groaned as his stomach did an impossible flip before tying itself in a knot. Weakly turning his head and breathing deeply, the intruder was revealed.

It was definitely not France, but a masked figure dressed all in black. Switzerland wasn't able to see them clearly due to his vision blurring, but his paranoid nature screamed that whoever this was, they meant danger. The problem was that as the person advanced, Switzerland was only able to barely push himself off the wall, before stumbling backwards a few steps.

His head was swimming, and he felt his stomach contort to the point he was trying not to vomit again. Forcing his legs to cease their trembling, he glared defiantly into the holes of the other nation's pearly white masquerade mask. If they wanted to invade him, he wasn't about to go down without a fight. His people had been ambushed and his beautiful capital was on fire. No nation took that lying down. If only he hadn't dropped his gun.

"What do you want?" he demanded, still clutching his right side with his left hand. Another searing pain tore up his sides and centered in his chest, where it stabbed his rapidly beating heart. He let out another scream as his hands moved to his ears. It felt as if two knives had just been stabbed into his skull. The stinging intensified along with the awful cries of his civilians. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of fresh tears.

It angered and annoyed him that the intruder was witnessing him cry, but there was nothing he could do stop the tears. They were attacking Bern, his heart. Switzerland cracked his eyes open and noticed the intruder was holding something, but only had sights for his endangered city. From outside his window, Bern was glowing orange, and the agonized screams of his people drifted through the air.

With wet gasping breaths, Switzerland forced himself to look away from his burning capital and focus entirely on the slightly blurred intruder. From the glowing out the window, he discovered that the item the masked nation carried was long, metal, and poised ready.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head, and attempting to back away. The intruder readied himself, bringing the knife forward and rushing towards Switzerland with impressive speed.

"No!" Switzerland shouted, backing away only to have his boots tangle in a pair of discarded pants. He fell backwards and the intruder came after, landing on top of him and plunging the knife deep into his stomach. Switzerland felt the metallic, salty taste of blood accumulate in his mouth, and he turned his head to the side in order to cough it up. The pain was unbearable, and it took all he had not to pass out.

The intruder raised the knife again, the blade dyed a deep crimson. Switzerland looked around frantically, then spotted a heavy pair of binoculars. They had been a gift from America during the other nation's 'imperial period', and as fast as he could, he wrapped his fingers around the long neck strap and swung the binoculars upwards, slamming them into the side of the intruder's head. The nation gave a yelp and tumbled to the side, while Switzerland rolled over on his bleeding stomach and weakly struggled to his feet.

Hands clutching his gaping wound, Switzerland stumbled out into the hall, coughing up more blood as he went. He had to get to the phone and call someone, anyone for help. France, Poland, America, England, hell, even Austria flashed through his mind. As much as he denied it, the two had been close at one point. Oh, why had he dropped his gun?

Once he came to the stairs he attempted to descend. However, Switzerland's knees buckled, and he ended up tumbling down them. His hat flew off, and he felt his sides and back bruise as his body slammed into the edge of every step. When he reached the bottom, he rolled a few times until he was on his side, facing the rise of the stairway.

The intruder stood on the very top, the bloody knife still in hand. Switzerland kept his usual trademark frown and spat up another stream of blood. He feebly tried to push himself up again, but his arms collapsed beneath him and he groaned in utter agony, defeated.

Focusing his attention towards the top of the stairs, Switzerland was only able to glare up at the attacker, hands still pressed to his punctured abdomen and blood still trickling from between his clenched teeth. The black clad figure began to very slowly walk down the steps, knife held calmly to the side as scarlet drops trickled down to the floor.

Liechtenstein was all he thought about as his killer came closer. He loved her more than anything in the world, and now he was going to hurt her more than Austria or Hungary ever could. Switzerland remembered the day he found her, scared and alone. He remembered the way she cut her hair so that she'd look more like him. In her military uniform, many of the other nations often confused her for him. He remembered buying her that little blue ribbon she always wore. Somehow, that made him happy. His face relaxed into a nostalgic smile as his eyes dulled. If only he was able to see her one last time.

The killer finally reached him, and turned Switzerland over on his back with his foot. The injured nation grunted with pain as his wound was jostled. Once the murderer was standing over him, he kneeled down and straddled Switzerland's stomach. Switzerland didn't try to fight due to the fatigue of blood loss. It was useless to resist anyway. His people had stopped screaming and his flag was gone, leaving him empty. The invasion was a success.

The killer lifted the knife above his head and plunged it into Switzerland's chest. Pain erupted from the wound and his body forced him to cough up the tide of blood blocking his windpipe.

Switzerland refused to scream, but stared directly into his killer's eyes with his usual defiance, showing him that he wasn't afraid. He was a strong nation and he'd die strong. The knife came down again, puncturing one of his lungs and once again through the chest. After a brief moment, the killer dropped the knife to the side, the metal clattering against the wood. The masked nation looked down on him, body language completely impassive.

_So you want to watch me die, huh? _Switzerland thought.

Barely alive, the dying nation used the last of his strength to lift his hand. His fingers trembled as they touched the smooth white of the killer's lavishly decorated mask. Surprisingly the murderer didn't flinch or slap his hand away, but merely sat on top of him, completely rigid and motionless. For a moment Switzerland was reminded of Turkey, but quickly replaced him with thoughts of his precious little sister in order to comfort himself and keep his defiance.

Liechtenstein's face was still fresh in his mind as his fingers curled around the edge of the cold, cruel mask, staining the white with red. Switzerland was determined to see his killer's face. He wanted to see which nation dared attack him without warning. He'd hate that nation to his grave and curse them from his coffin. He quickly removed the mask and his eyes widened with shock.

"Y…You?" he breathed, before his hand fell limp to his side, covered in his own blood. The mask skittered away, leaving thin trails of crimson on the wooden floor. Switzerland's eyes lost their light, and he continued to stare at the face of his killer until he could see no more.

* * *

Italy ran as fast as his bare legs were able to carry him, his breath coming in gasps as he sped through his yard in the direction of Germany's house. He just had the most awful dream involving Japan, guns, and a pancake. Only a few short moments ago, he had awoken to his own screaming, grabbed a shirt, and began his wild race. Germany was probably asleep by now, in which case, he was going to get a rude awakening.

Then again, there was also a chance he was still getting ready for bed and was in the midst of taking a nice warm shower. Italy preferred the shower scenario, simply because Germany would be awake, giving him the perfect opportunity to cling to the larger nation and retell his awful tale. Besides, Germany only got angry if Italy woke him up, whereas in the shower he'd simply stare and go awfully quiet.

Italy remembered last time he burst into Germany's bathroom in a panic. Italy had clung to him desperately, terrified that the other nation's new found friendship with Russia was going to affect their own. He liked that Germany hadn't yelled… for the first ten minutes as least. Japan had walked in after Italy managed to sneak a in hug while the two were still 'lacking in the clothes department', and the comforting silence basically flew out the window. As to why it had, Italy had no idea.

After what seemed like hours, Italy's fear-induced adrenaline wore off and he stopped, panting roughly. Maybe it was time to cut back on all the pasta. Italy gasped and straightened up, surprised and horrified at the thought. _Cut back? On pasta? _What was wrong with him? That dream must have really messed with his noggin.

"Oh, if only I brought some leftovers from last night's dinner with France nii-chan," Italy worried aloud, bringing up one finger to tease his lower lip. "I could have used it as a peace offering for Germany and maybe he wouldn't yell at me!"

In the middle of the Italian's inner turmoil, a breeze picked up blowing the hem of his shirt up to his chest. Yelping as the chill hit his vital regions, Italy quickly pushed the shirt back down over his thighs, the entire scene eerily familiar to a rather famous picture of Marilyn Monroe.

"And I'm not wearing pants again!" Italy cried, looking up to the moon. "Germany will definitely yell at me now! He's been so stern and angry lately, it's like living with Mussolini all over again!"

Italy hopped from one foot to the other, his hands still on the hem of his shirt. Upon discovering such a spectacle, one might come to the false conclusion that the distressed nation was on the verge of urinating. After a brief inner monologue of how cold Germany had been as of late and the effects it had on the Italian's 'fragile artist's soul', Italy finally calmed himself enough to gather his surroundings.

He was standing before someone's house, right below a balcony that was strangely familiar. Italy thought for sure he'd been here before, possibly on another one of his rampages to get to Germany's house. He had to think though, for his mind was drawing blanks.

So he thought.

And pondered.

Mused.

Deduced.

Failed to notice the damaged, but large sign behind him that proclaimed, _"Welcome to Bern" _in four different languages including his own.

"I got it!" Italy proclaimed, raising a finger into the air in triumph. "I'm at Switzerland's house! I figured it out using my natural sense of location all Italians are blessed with!" Basking in the glow of his triumph, it was only seconds later that the Italian's proud smile vanished and he wheezed in horror. "Oh, I'm at Switzerland's house," he stated breathlessly before screaming in fear.

Clamping his hands over his mouth to stop the incredibly high-pitched sound, he dropped to his knees and pressed his hands together, almost as if praying.

"Please don't shoot me, I have family in Geneva!" Italy cried, his entire frame trembling. He stared at the balcony fearfully, remembering how the horribly aggressive nation stood up there and shot at him for merely passing through.

Italy continued his fearful gaze, waiting for Switzerland to rush out with his gun, but it remained empty. _I guess he's asleep, _Italy concluded, though he was sure his scream had been relatively loud. He was about to slip away and continue his quest for Germany, when another breeze reminded him of his lack of pants.

"Ah, why does this always happen to me?" Italy whined. "My butt cheeks feel like they're about to fall off! Why is it so cold at night?" Germany usually let Italy borrow his pants when nights like tonight occurred, often removing the pair he was wearing for the sake of concealing the smaller nation's lower regions, but the way Germany had been acting lately made Italy second guess this usual train of behavior. It seemed like _everything _bothered Germany nowadays. Habits that he never used to mind were now crimes against all society. Not even Japan was immune.

As much as Italy loved to see Germany remove his pants, he admitted he probably shouldn't take any chances if he really wanted comfort. Looking down at his bare legs, he knew that if he showed up in his current pant-less state, Germany would most likely throw him out and lock the door.

Italy sighed, knowing it wasn't Germany's fault. Ever since the allies landed him with paying impossibly high reparations, Germany had been stressed and over-worked with the added weight of cleaning up the mess his boss left. America had been helping him with the reparation part, but there was no way anyone could help him fix what Hitler had done to his people. He didn't need Italy making it worse for him. Suddenly, Italy's mission changed. He no longer wanted Germany to reassure him, but to be there for his best friend and let him know that everything was going to work out.

Germany also needed to know that it wasn't his fault for what happened, that he only did what he thought was right. What those poor people went through in those awful camps had not been his fault. There was nothing a nation could say or do against his boss or his people. Italy wanted to tell him this more than anything.

He needed pants.

To his horror, he found himself walking towards Switzerland's front door. Was he seriously going _into _Switzerland's house? Italy couldn't really believe it, but swallowed roughly and reached for the doorknob. He really wanted to see Germany. Maybe not because of the dream, which he now admitted was more disturbing than actually scary, but because he was genuinely worried about the other nation's sudden detachment and the bitter self-resentment now present in Germany's sorrowful blue eyes.

"Don't open, don't open, don't open," he chanted under his breath. "Don't-" the knob twisted and the door swung inwards, the creaking of the hinges ringing loudly in Italy's ears. "Crap."

Well, too late to turn back now. He just wanted to borrow a pair of pants. It wasn't like he was going to steal anything. Italy cautiously crept into the house and was amazed at how clean everything was. Either Switzerland had really talented maids or, like Austria, he was perfectionist. Every item was in proper alignment and the wooden floor before the stairs looked like it had been recently waxed. Italy had the sudden urge to rub it and see if it squeaked, but suppressed the thought, fearing the noise would attract a certain blond with unhealthy anger issues.

Italy cautiously tiptoed through Switzerland's house, heart pounding and half-expecting the terrifying nation to jump out and put a bullet through his head. France told him about the one time he broke into Switzerland's house and ended up with a good chunk of his beautiful hair missing from one of the stray bullets. Italy wondered briefly how Switzerland came to be so trigger-happy. The only other nation he knew that came remotely close to Switzerland's love of all things lead was America.

Realizing he had explored most of the downstairs of the other nation's meticulously clean house, Italy knew with a sense of overwhelming dread that if he was going to find pants, he was going to have to go upstairs, to _Switzerland's room. _

"If only Germany were here," Italy whispered. "He'd shield me from the bullets, and then I could get pants, and then he wouldn't yell at me, and then we could go back to the way it was. Me, Germany, and Japan as allies."

Italy made his way up the stairs, flinching as the boards creaked below each footstep. Once he reached the top of the stairs, he wandered down the hall for a moment until he came to a door that was open ajar. Italy took a deep breath and entered the room, the hinges squealing in alarm, as if calling for Switzerland. Italy clenched his teeth and swallowed roughly.

Like the rest of the house, the room was spotlessly clean, almost disturbingly so. The lights were still on and Italy felt his heart drop to his stomach as his eyes rested on the bed stationed on the other side of the room. Just above the blanket, there was the top of a blond head. Italy remained awkwardly frozen, remembering how France told him Switzerland slept with a gun under his pillow. This idea about pants probably wasn't the best now that he thought about it. Maybe he should just leave and wait until morning to see Germany.

Backing away slowly, Italy gave a yelp as he walked into a dresser, knocking over a few items. They rolled along the top of the dresser and crashed on to the floor. Italy attempted to hurriedly pick everything up, but only succeeded in knocking it over again. In a panic, he reeled away from the dresser and tripped over his own feet.

With yet another scream, Italy waved his arms wildly, his hand grasping the closest thing, which happened to be the blanket covering Switzerland's body. The Italian hit the floor with a grunt, the comforter falling on top of his face. He froze in terror, waiting for the inevitable click followed with the equally inevitable bang.

It never came.

Ever so cautiously, Italy lowered the blanket from his eyes and sat up carefully. Switzerland must be a very heavy sleeper. The frightened nation turned to catch a glimpse of the other, but gasped when instead of the angelic sleeping face France described, he was met with two green eyes staring blankly at him.

"Oh God, please don't shoot me!" Italy begged. "I'm sorry, it's just that I had a nightmare and I wanted to see Germany, but Germany has been really angry lately and I forgot my pants and he always gets mad when I do that so I hoped you would let me borrow some of yours, I'm sorry!" He ceased his babbling when Switzerland didn't respond. He didn't even make a move for the gun under his pillow, just stared at Italy, his eyes slightly glassy. "Um, you're not mad are you?"

Again there was no reply, and Italy's brow furrowed in concern.

"Switzerland?" Italy gulped. The other nation didn't so much as blink. "Hey, are you okay?" Tentatively, Italy reached a hand out and touched the other nation's shoulder. He gave a gentle shake, ready to hit the deck if Switzerland happened to pull a gun seemingly out of an alternate dimension as he was well known to do. Italy felt a few beads of sweat trickle down his brow, noticing a knife grasped loosely in the other nation's hand.

"You're really cold," Italy remarked, laughing nervously, eyes flickering to the blade every few seconds. "Wow, you're _unhealthily _cold." It was true, for even beneath the fabric of his uniform, Switzerland's skin was terribly icy. _Almost like a…no, don't think like that, Italy! That's a Russia thought! _he warned himself. After gulping, he questioned aloud with a slightly squeaky voice, "Are you sick or something? Why do you have a knife?"

Those green eyes were still staring at him blankly, unblinking and misty. Italy let his hand wander to the nation's side, where he gave another quick shake. Italy was starting to become frantic as Switzerland remained unresponsive.

"Okay, this isn't funny now!" Italy laughed, his voice on the verge of hysteria. "You really should say something! Come on now, I-" Italy stopped speaking as his hand hit something wet. Pulling it back, he stared down at his quivering palm, now smeared with blood. "Oh my…"

Italy's eyes then rolled back in their sockets and his mouth gaped open as he promptly fainted.

* * *

Poor poor Italy. Okay, so what do you think? Everyone who reviews will get a shout out the next chapter! I have to say, writing Switzerland like that really killed me. I love him to death, but he's still a very important character throughout the story so don't count him out yet.

Anyway, **historical references and sources:**

- Liechtenstein and Austria really do have very good relations, but for the sake of this story Austria takes advantage of that as he and Hungary attempt to rebuild the empire they lost. Liechtenstein is actually the 30th largest exporter to Austria the statistics Switzerland mentioned are found here: **http : / / www . liechtenstein . li .li / en / bilateral-oesterreich-praesentation_ en . pdf** Just get rid of the spaces

- In 1798 the armies of the French Revolution conquered Switzerland and imposed a new unified constitution. Directly from Wikipedia.

- Marilyn Monroe was a very popular American actress/singer. Her most famous picture is when she stands above a rush of air and holds he skirt down

Reviews for starving authors? We'll continue despite feedback just because we're having fun, but reviews make us update faster!


	2. Bible John

**Hey! Lucky here! n.n (Or luckystars135. -.-; Same thing anyway...)**

**Anywayz, this chappie was a lot of fun to write. Why? You get to see America cussing out someone. XD **

**(clears throat) Sorry. Oh yeah, and I think we've narrowed down the pairings to EnglandxFrance, RussiaxChina, and AmericaxJapan. We still might change it, considering hardly anything has happened yet. -.-;**

**EVERYBODY LET'S HEAR A SHOUT OUT FOR THESE AWESOME PEOPLE~!**

**_marmoki, Kitty29, Compleatly Random Dissorder, Uzumaki kagome-chan, Rinael, AnimeDutchess, Wraith, Penumbra9, Lee Lee, _and _avaspongeriffic_**

**Disclaimer -- **If I owned this, the people would be stick figures. If Angel owned this, England and France would dominate. -.-;

* * *

It was the quietest a World Meeting had ever been.

And America most certainly did _not_ like it. Not one bit. In his opinion, the World Meetings were dull and stretching, but when everyone was in a nice mood, it lightened the burden a bit. People would fight, and that would give him something to do, which was always better than sitting and taping eyes on your glasses so it looked like you were still awake. (Although America was aware that it never worked, as was proven after England slapped him awake more than five times in a row right after he had dozed off.)

But today was most definitely not one of those 'happy days'. It was more like a 'everyone get in a foul mood and kick Italy to relieve anger and stress' sort of day. No one was talking, and America suddenly found that less appealing than listening to Austria drone on about GDPs and global warming. He wished that anyone, _anyone_, would talk, but that was like facing the sky and begging it to rain frogs.

Giving the smallest groan of frustration, America turned his head to look out the window. Like all of the other countries, he was most surprised at the fact that a _neutral_ country would suddenly disappear. Not to mention that the country that he was speaking of happened to be _Switzerland_ of all people, who he knew from personal experience carried a gun everywhere with him. (Including the restroom, but America wasn't going to go into details.)

Of course, Switzerland's sudden death sprung up many questions, including fears, which everyone seemed to be too tense and scared to bring up. Was Switzerland murdered? By which nation? Or maybe he committed suicide. But would that be reasonable, considering the fact that Switzerland was a relatively rich country? And besides, all of the nations knew that Switzerland cared for his people _very_ much. The only thing that had excelled that love was possibly the love for his sister, Liechtenstein.

Which brought up another subject that they were _supposed_ to address during this meeting. Liechtenstein seemed to currently be in the shock stage of grief. (The next stage would probably be having the death sink in.) Her eyes were wide and staring into the space in front of her, making France, who was sitting across from her, fidget slightly. Her face remained impassive however, despite the fact that America thought she was biting the inside of her bottom lip, as if it would help with anything. The only tell-tale clue that all was _not_ well in her mind was the fact that her hands were balled up tightly on the table. America bet that if he opened her hands, she would be bleeding from where her fingernails pierced her skin.

Italy was the first one that found Switzerland. And the person that happened to find Italy was Liechtenstein herself, apparently. (And according to Liechtenstein's later report, Italy was both pant-less _and_ passed out by Switzerland's body…) Liechtenstein had appeared to stare, wide eyed at the scene before her, before letting out a piercing scream that had attracted the attention of the nearby nations. (Germany, France, and Austria, whose houses were right next door to Switzerland's.)

From there, everything had basically gone global.

The European countries had immediately sent out emergency World Meeting letters to the four corners of the world. America and Canada had their letters personally delivered by France and England, who were probably half worried that their younger brothers had been attacked as well. (Though they would never openly admit it.) Although America was horrified that a country such as Switzerland had been attacked, he and his childish naivety had expected everything to be the same at the World Meeting.

How very wrong he was.

The silence was killing him. America cleared his throat. He didn't know what he was expecting—probably every person to ignore him. (After all, it had happened so many times before.) However, the moment he made the noise that seemed to echo in the silence, dozens of pairs of eyes snapped at once to him. They ranged from disgusted (England) to curious (Canada) to emotionless (Liechtenstein) to wary (Lithuania) to amused (France) to bored (Austria) to…to…

You get the point.

Anyway, none of the stares were exactly what America would call _expectant_. And given the current situation that everyone was currently in, America, for once, did not know what to say. "Er…" And that one word from him automatically cued an eye roll from England. "I-_what_?"

"Oh, nothing," England said innocently, his eyes widening like a child's. "I guess I overestimated you by thinking that you would say anything better than just 'er' as your first word. Even though there were so many possibilities that you could have started with."

"Well, listen to yourself. 'Oh'. Is that such a good start as well?" America taunted back. At least this was more fun than just sitting there. Messing with England's head was _always_ more fun than the meetings. England bristled automatically at the comment.

" 'Well'?" England quoted.

"Do you have a problem with the word 'well'?" America said, sticking out his tongue childishly. A few nations sighed with irritation. America might have thought that he was helping everything, but in actuality, he was just making everyone lose it even more. "It's like how you describe how you want your steak done! 'I want my steak done _well_!' Would you be saying, 'I want my steak done 'oh'?! That makes no sense!"

"Well, I don't give a damn about how you'd like your steak done," England sighed, being one of the many nations who found America annoying. (Italy was actually holding up a video camera and filming this fight. He recovered quickly from his 'Switzerland' incident.)

England blinked, confused, when he saw America suddenly grin widely. And as usual, England's patience around America fell dramatically, especially when the younger nation was grinning in a way that made everyone want run for the hills. "_What_?" England demanded.

"You began your last sentence with 'well'," America said, his smile only growing bigger as his ego enlarged as well. England paled. He tried thinking back. Unfortunately, one often finds that one's memory is tampered slightly when one is yelling oneself hoarse at someone. This was the nice situation England was in. Germany, seeing that they were not going to get anywhere with the current twist in the meeting, simply sighed.

"Italy. Rewind the tape and see what England said," Germany said, his voice only slightly irritated. Italy nodded happily as the other countries turned to look at the small brunette.

"Okay, _Doitsu_!" Japan was rubbing off on Italy. The Japanese that Italy started speaking certainly made talking to him awkward. Germany cleared his throat, determined not to think too much of what Japanese and an Italian accent blended together would sound like.

Italy toyed with the camera for a while, and then frowned. He pressed a few more buttons. Nothing. Not even a sound came out of it. Italy started pressing more buttons. "Did you even record it?" Austria asked dubiously.

Italy shook his head so hard that Germany found himself wondering if it would simply fall off. "Yes! I'm sure! The red light came on!" Italy pressed another button. A whirring sound.

And then the video camera turned on.

Silence.

"Wait…so it was off?" France asked, a dumbfounded tone in his voice. Italy frowned, looking at the thing. He shook it violently.

"It was on just a second ago…"

"Maybe it ran out of batteries," Japan offered, not following the rest of the nations as they all started cluttering around Italy's video camera.

"Here, like, let me see," Poland demanded, tugging on the neck strap. Italy willingly let go, everyone watching as the video camera changed hands. "Hmm…hey, like, Japan's right. The batteries, like, died out. You, like, need new ones, kid." Italy snapped his fingers as he dove under the table. The rest of the nations watched him as he suddenly resurfaced, a camera bag in his hands. He placed it on the table and started digging around in it.

"I brought another one…I'm sure of it," Italy said, pouting slightly as he forced his hand through the black bag.

"I'll help," Korea said cheerfully. He then dove his hands violently into the small bag, sending the entire table in tremors. Many nations tried to keep it steady so it wouldn't tumble over as Korea continued to dig through the bag without any grace whatsoever.

"Watch it~aru!" China snapped, trying to flatten all the table legs back on the ground and stop the papers from flying everywhere. "Italy doesn't need your help~aru! You'll just make a nuisance of yourself~aru!"

Korea stopped briefly. "Nya~!" Korea tugged down lightly on one of his bottom eyelids with a hand he just freed. China scowled slightly, which just made Korea grin. "China, you're too uptight! The one thing that Korea didn't invent is stress!"

"H-Hey, everyone, let's just get along okay?" Canada laughed nervously, collecting his papers and stopping them from flying out the open window behind England. (Who started arguing with America again.) "Korea…why don't you let someone else search for the battery?"

"Yeah! I'll do it!" Seychelles surprised everyone by jumping over the table. Estonia, who sat next to Italy, didn't seem fazed at all, and simply ducked so Seychelles's foot didn't hit his head. "Give it here, Korea!" Korea, seemingly startled by Seychelles's demonstration, let his hands go slack. Seychelles easily snatched it away.

And then began tossing things over her shoulder.

"W-What are you doing?" Latvia asked, trembling slightly, his fingers and eyes peeking out over the edge table from his new vantage spot from under it, where it was apparently 'safe'. However, it was not so, as was proven when a memory card hit him square in the forehead.

"I'm looking for that battery!" Seychelles cried cheerfully, tossing cards, straps, pieces of cloth and who knows what else over her shoulder. A hail of the miscellaneous items rained down on America and England, who had started on full-throttle screaming at each other.

And then a camera lens hit America in the side of the head.

"…_Ow_."

England actually froze, his hand inches from slapping America across the face. Only he had noticed that one brief moment when the American's face had completely contorted into pain. And apparently since America and England were making two-thirds of the noise in the room, everyone quieted as well while England continued staring at America with a dumbfounded expression.

A _camera lens_ wasn't supposed to be enough to make you freeze briefly in pain. A _camera lens_ wasn't supposed to make you flinch and bring your hands automatically to the spot the object hit. And a _camera lens_ was most certainly not supposed to make the victim say, 'Ow.' Especially a war-hardened country. (Thank goodness America wasn't that 'war-hardened'…or else then he'd be as terrifying as Russia.)

"Hey, you okay?" Greece asked from his chair, leaning back on two legs. America closed his eyes for a second and then opened them again, smiling brightly.

"Yep! It's just that the…er…whatchamacallit…"

"Camera lens," Belarus offered.

"Yeah…that…it just hit one of my…er…"

"Your _what_?" England demanded.

"I…uh…"

"What is it America?" Lithuania asked, blinking slightly. "Is it a wound that the…er…thingy hit?" America wasn't the only one that probably didn't pay attention to anything as 'trivial' as camera lenses.

"It…uh…"

"Oh, forget this!" England snapped. He stood up on his tip-toes (yes, how time flies) and brushed away a slight borderline of hair at America's right temple.

Everyone froze.

A bruise. It was a bruise. But it wasn't a normal bruise. No, this had to be one of the _worst_ bruises that England had ever seen. It extended, splotchy and purple, in an almost peanut-shaped figure, covering much of the side of America's head. And though it was noticeable, America's hairline had blocked the worst of the damage, making the last few splotches look like shadows dancing away from the light. England impulsively stretched up to reach it, and was very surprised when America flinched away. And that brought England back down to Earth as well.

"How the hell did you get that?" England found himself asking, horrified. Of course, he had _told_ himself that he wouldn't care about America and refused to meddle in his younger brother's affairs, but this one fact that America had gotten hurt and not told_ him_ might have hurt England just slightly.

America looked away, turning the vaguest shade of pink. "It's…none of your business." France blinked and cocked his head slightly. Since when was America smart enough to keep secrets from other people? France had always thought that America was too straightforward and stupid to actually _lie_.

"A-America?" Canada scraped back his chair, tripped on the leg, and then stumbled over to where America was. "D-Did you get hurt? By who? Why didn't you tell me?" Canada's reaction was how a brother genuinely reacted. England's was just like an overprotective parent. Spain smirked slightly at that thought. Oh, what a wonderful family they would make. No wait, England would be the mom and France would be the dad... (Oh, poor kids.)

"I…just…fell." America scratched his neck, looking up determinately at one corner on the ceiling. "Off…a stool."

"You don't have stools," Canada said, scrunching his brow. "The reason you don't is because you're afraid that you'll fall off them." (It was from back when America and Canada were very young. America had a bad experience with stools, cookies, and cookie jars.)

"I…just bought a new one. It matches…the curtains."

…

France was right. America was too stupid to lie. Or at least lie well. Because the naïve country obviously did not have any experience with telling a lie that at least _some_ people would believe.

"Eh? America…was it a very tall stool?" Finland asked, looking at America with wide-eyed innocence.

Never mind…only people who were even more innocent than America would actually fall for a lie like that.

"I FOUND IT!!!"

And with this loud cry, a few nations tumbled to the ground with surprise, some blinked and looked towards the speaker, and some simply jumped slightly. Italy laughed nervously and scratched the nape of his neck while everyone looked at him. "Eh…sorry…but I found the battery."

"With my help, of course," Seychelles imputed, grinning.

"Of course," Germany sighed, dryly.

"So, what does it say?" America implied, relieved that the attention was diverted from his ugly bruise.

Italy fiddled with the buttons on the video camera for a second more. He pressed something, then something else, then another something else after that something else before, which was quickly followed by another something else which was accompanied by another something else which in the end gave us too many something else-s to count. But the point is, after Italy rewound the film, and then pressed play, everyone in the meeting room was greeted with England loudly declaring from the tape, 'Well, I don't give a damn about how you'd like your steak done!'

…He said 'well'.

"See? _See_?! Even you said it!"

"…Twit," England muttered darkly, glaring at America. America beamed at England.

"Why thank you very much for reminding me. I _would_ like a Twix bar right about now. Or Hershey's. Or Kit Kat's--did you ever notice how good those were? Or maybe even some of those Ferrer Rocher thingies that you people seem so fond of, or maybe even some of Switzerland's ch-"

Silence.

Well now, didn't America feel like a _dunce_? Of all people to bring up in one of his rants, it had to be a nation. And not just any nation—a _recently deceased_ nation. How brilliant he was. America personally scolded himself for the slip and looked at Liechtenstein. She seemed unresponsive.

The word 'idiot' was muttered in many different languages.

"_Idiotas_." That was Lithuanian.

"_Baka_." That was Japanese.

"_Ben dan_!" That was Chinese.

"_Cretino_." Italian.

"_Dummkopf_." German.

"_Cretin_." French.

"_Stulbs_." Even the small Latvian contributed.

"…Bastard." Ah. Sweet, plain English.

"Retard," America shot back, trying to retain at least a little bit of dignity.

"That's the best that you can do?" England asked, quirking up an eyebrow. Though he didn't like hearing America curse, it would be rather embarrassing if his little brother didn't know _any_ good curse words.

"Do you _want_ me to start cussing in front of all these people?!" America couldn't help demanding.

"Let's see how many you know."

America didn't know whether he should be insulted, irritated, or glad of the opportunity. In the end, he decided on the last. "Son of a bitch," America said slowly. He seemed to get in more of a mood soon, and was then grinning while rattling off insult after insult at England. "Asshole. Whore. Dipshit. Fuckhead. Motherfucker—"

"Yes, thank you, I get the point," England snapped, stopping America before he revealed what he had learned when he wasn't under England's influence. Little did England know that America learned half of those words from the older nation when he was under a drinking fit.

Everything was quiet once more for a few seconds. Then, America spotted the strangest thing outside the window. He proceeded to stare for the next five minuets, causing all of the nations that were staring at _him_ to fidget and poke him a few times. Some even tried to follow America's line of vision, trying to find out what was interesting the nation so much.

"England?" America's voice sounded queer.

"Yes, you ponce?"

"…You might want to close the window behind you."

"_Why_?"

"…It's raining frogs."

~*~-~*~

"Okay Italy, I'll bite. What _are_ you doing?!"

It was after the World Meeting. A day after, to be exact. And Germany, who was half asleep at this time, actually let himself be dragged along with Japan by Italy to Switzerland's house. At first Germany had thought that Italy had wanted to simply pay his respects, but it turned out that this was not the case. Of course, Germany should have been cautious enough when Italy arrived that morning wearing a bowler hat and a large cloak, but Germany just supposed that Italy had just dressed up for no reason. One of the most stupid mistakes Germany had ever made.

Italy was dressed for a reason. And that reason was proven to Japan once Italy dragged both him and Germany to Switzerland's bedroom, where Italy had apparently found Switzerland. Italy was now thoroughly embarrassing himself by crawling around on the ground, nose inches from the carpet, a large magnifying glass in front of his face.

"I'm a detective, Germany!" Italy cried cheerfully, lifting a magnified eye to examine Germany for a moment. "I'm going to find out who killed Switzerland!"

…

…

"You?"

"Yup!" Italy said, turning his magnifying glass back onto the carpet. Germany only stared at Italy with a mixture of shock and horror. Japan just sighed and got up off of Switzerland's large bed, looking slowly around the room.

"According to Liechtenstein, no one touched anything in this room," Japan mused, his eyes scanning the wallpaper and the overtly neat arrangement of everything. "Germany, why don't you scan this room with Italy while I check out the rest of the house." Germany stared at Japan with disbelief.

"You're…helping him?"

Japan looked up. "Of course. Now, if you'll excuse me." Japan walked towards the bedroom door, opening it with a loud creak. Japan stopped. And turned. "If you guys want to find me, just follow the trail of blood."

"What trail of blood?" Germany demanded. He really wasn't in the mood to go and play detective right now. Especially since he was trying to find clues for a man's death in a creepy house that he had never particularly liked. Mostly because of the fact that he got shot at every single time the toe of his boot accidentally stepped onto Switzerland's territory.

Japan looked down. Germany looked down too. And didn't see anything. Japan seemed to sigh. "There is a trail of blood there, you just can't see it," Japan voiced patiently. "The path that the blood left was bleached, so it looks lighter than the carpet around it." Germany squinted at the ground. Sure enough, one line seemed to stretch from the bedroom window to outside the door, the line cleaner and lighter than the ground around it.

"How do you know its blood?" Germany asked. He was never good with this detective stuff.

"What else would the killer have to hide?" Japan asked simply. "The killer would also have to have bleached it before Italy and Liechtenstein discovered Switzerland, so that means they stayed after they killed him. It also seems like there's a particularly large pale spot downstairs, even noticeable on the wood. That must be where Switzerland finally died. And the killer then carried Switzerland from down there to up here in his bed to try and buy some time for when the discoverer would arrive. It would have been easy to hide, since the arriver would have rung the doorbell or knocked, considering the fact that this was Switzerland's house. That must mean that the killer planned for the maximum amount of time to clean up. Which also means that they must have already hidden plenty of things. That means collecting evidence would be rather tricky. If they were smart enough to hide it well."

"Wow, Japan, you figured all that out just by that line on the ground? That's so cool!" Italy asked, excitedly, looking up momentarily from his futile search of the carpet. Japan blushed slightly.

"Well then, I'll be downstairs," Japan said, turning around and walking out of the room.

Germany had to admit that when Japan said it, it did sound rather cool. Japan really knew what he was doing. Sighing, Germany started scanning the room. Everything was just so neat. It seemed impossible that a dead body was really found here a few days ago.

Well, if he was to be of any contribution at all, he might as well start. Germany walked along the perimeter of the room, looking at this thing and that thing. Switzerland seemed to be particularly fond of his war trophies. They were hung up, polished until they were gleaming. Germany found himself reading them. Most of them were in German anyway, with a few in French and Italian.

Germany continued moving along the walls, pointedly ignoring the open window with the breeze wafting in. He already looked at what was left of Switzerland's land before, and didn't wish to look at it again. It seemed that when a nation died, the land that it was on suddenly lost its will to live. What used to be the great and sparkling Bern was now nothing more than a large heap of wasteland.

Germany supposed there was more than one reason why he was frightened of Switzerland's death. It reminded him that they could actually _die_. It was because knew people such as England and China who had lived for who-knows-how-many years. Now more than ever, Germany just wanted his people to live.

…Was that too much to ask for?

Germany's boot hit something. It was a pair of binoculars. The heavy material was tossed carelessly on the ground, the neck strap looking as if someone had thrown it down in haste. Germany moved forward, bending down to take a closer look at it. It would have hurt horribly if someone threw that at you. From the angle of the neck strap, Germany could detect that it wasn't thrown, but swung. Perhaps Switzerland used it to protect himself.

And then, Germany spotted something.

A blond hair.

It seemed to be loosely wrapped around the body of the binoculars, as if it had fallen on there by accident. Germany frowned and picked it up. From what he knew of Switzerland's killer from Japan, the killer was supposed to have cleaned up thoroughly, right? Then why would the killer leave such an important sign of evidence lying around? Not only did it show signs of struggle, which meant Switzerland's death was not suicide, it also had a blond hair carelessly found on it.

"Ah, Germany, why are you staring out the window~?" Italy's voice knocked Germany back to Earth. The strict country cleared his throat with surprise, tugging lightly on his tie. He must have started looking at the poor city without meaning to. It seemed like Germany was doing those sort of things these days.

"No reason. Italy, have you found anything?" Germany asked, tearing his eyes away from the horror scene that was before him. Italy seemed to freeze at seeing Germany.

"You were looking out the window."

Germany blinked at Italy's intensive gaze. He turned to look behind him, curious at what Italy was looking at. Oh right. It was the open window. The drapes fluttered weakly as if in response, seeming to say, 'Nice going, Sherlock.' "…Uh…"

"Germany, did you just open the window?"

"I…no."

Italy quieted once more, looking at Switzerland's door. "The trail of blood starts here." Italy began softly. Germany had to strain his ears to hear. "Liechtenstein said that she was conversing with Switzerland on the telephone, which means that he would be downstairs. The killer had to lure Switzerland upstairs…and open window…" Germany could feel himself holding his breath. Why couldn't Italy just get on with it?! "I've got it."

"Got it? Got what? You know who the killer is?" Germany couldn't help spilling out eagerly. Italy blinked with surprise, seeming to have forgotten that Germany was still in the room.

"Oh, _Doitsu_, no, I just found out how they killed Switzerland."

"Well, that's not im—wait, _they_?!"

Italy grinned. "Switzerland was talking on the telephone with Liechtenstein. Someone enters his house. Did you notice how much this bedroom door squeaked when we came in?"

"Uh, I—"

"No, you didn't. The door squeaked, alerting Switzerland that someone was in his bedroom. He goes upstairs. He notices that the _window is open_. Knowing Switzerland, he probably wouldn't leave windows open. Switzerland goes to see what's up. Logically speaking, Bern should be on fire by now. And in that one moment his attention's diverted, his killer attacks him.

"There's proof that the killer didn't work alone. It must have had help, because the killer wouldn't be able to destroy Bern and then kill Switzerland, or the other way around, because of the fact that either Switzerland would be too strong or the simple fact that his people's pain would reach him before the killer did. Therefore there were probably many signs of struggle that we haven't found yet."

"Binoculars," Germany breathed.

"And then—wait, what?"

"Binoculars," Germany repeated, looking up at Italy's suddenly confused expression. He cleared his throat. "I found binoculars. Here." Germany tossed them to Italy. Italy, no surprise, missed the toss and the heavy equipment landed harshly on his foot.

"_Ow_!" Italy cried, his eyes tearing up immediately. "Oh no, I'm going to have a bruise!" Germany simply sighed and waited for Italy's blond moment to pass (Wait, what was he talking about?! Italy always had blond moments! It was only now that he started acting seriously, like a country should!), the smaller nation finally pouted and reached down, picking up the binoculars. He smiled and looked up at Germany. "One of the signs of struggle, then?" Germany nodded.

Italy clapped his hands. "There we go! That one hit didn't kill Switzerland, but he probably dropped his gun in surprise. Switzerland tried to fight back. He swung the binoculars at the killer and stumbles downstairs, where the killer finds him and _then_ kills him."

"Oh, and there's this," Germany mentioned, brandishing the blond hair (almost dropping it in the process). He was wise and walked to Italy, handing him the piece of evidence this time. It probably wouldn't be fun to try and look for a blond hair in a tan carpet.

Italy cocked his head, bringing the magnifying glass to examine the single strand of hair. And at once, his expression darkened. Germany almost jumped at Italy's suddenly serious expression, which Germany has only seen once or twice. Even the smart Italy before didn't compare to this one. Was a single hair really that important?

"Hey, Germany?"

"Yeah?"

"…Who's hair did you say you thought this was again?"

Germany frowned. "I think its Switzerland's. After all, they are _his_ binoculars. Even though the make looks a bit American."

And then another thought hit him. The make is American. And a weapon that is used by Switzerland could just as easily be used by the killer. The hair is blond. The killer couldn't be…

"This hair…is certainly too dark to be Switzerland's," Italy said, smiling slightly. The smile actually made Germany worry slightly. Since when did Italy have such a dangerous side of him? Germany's throat seemed to close a bit.

"But how can you tell?" Germany demanded. He refused to believe that…that… "It looks like a blond hair to me! It could be Switzerland's!"

Italy's smile grew. "Don't underestimate a painter's eye. It is most definitely too dark to be Switzerland's."

"But then…who else could it be?" Germany asked, his voice seeming to grow smaller and smaller. The killer couldn't be…wouldn't be…

"Germany-san. Italy-san," Japan said, walking back into the room. He held a small baggie, something tiny seeming to be held inside. "Look at what I found."

Germany moved in, despairing slightly. Italy looked up, holding his magnifying glass out in front of him, eager for more evidence. Italy and Japan were really getting into it. But now that they had practically narrowed it down to one person, Germany suddenly felt sick and didn't want to continue with this.

It was a sequin. A small, pearly white sequin. Well, pearly white except for the one small blood stain on it. "I found this on the wooden floor downstairs," Japan said, narrowing his eyes slightly. "It seems like the killer didn't see this, since it was under the shadows of a small table. What do you guys think?"

The baggie was passed from Japan to Germany. Germany simply gulped, looking at it. He could see nothing special about it in particular. He handed it to Italy. Italy immediately started staring at it closely.

"It was glued on," Italy mused, turning the baggie over, observing the sequin with his magnifying glass. "Which means it wasn't on any clothes. Sequins are usually _sewn_ on clothes. This was on an accessory. Preferably one that made the wearer's identity a mystery. A mask then."

Germany felt the sick feeling in his stomach grow as Japan started talking. "The killer has on a mask so Switzerland wouldn't be able to contact help the moment he saw the person. I would bet that Switzerland was taken by surprise so that he wouldn't have any time to call for help anyways. Either way, everything was set up in the end so that it looked slightly more like a suicide than a murder."

"But whoever was cleaning up obviously didn't do a very good job of it," Germany forced himself to say through his sick feeling. "Because they left telltale clues everywhere."

"Exactly," Italy said. "Why, Germany, you're turning out to be an awesome detective!"

"So have you guys found anything?" Japan asked.

"We have," Germany said, trying to be as strong as the other two nations. (Heavens sake, and he thought that he would die before the day that Italy appeared to be stronger than him.) "A blond hair that's too dark to be Switzerland's. And a pair of American-made binoculars." Japan smiled softly.

"That's enough," the Asian nation said. "I think that's enough evidence from here. Now all we have to do is wait for next time."

"N-Next time?!" This time even Italy was surprised. "What are you talking about, _Nihon_, there won't _be_ a next time!" Japan shook his head.

"I am positive that it will happen again," Japan said firmly. Germany felt the sick feeling in his stomach resurface. Italy even paled a bit. Germany looked around the room and thought of these days. It's going to happen again? All of this chaos is going to happen again? But Japan did say so…and he sounded so sure of it too…

"Then…God pray it's not us next time."

* * *

**(GOSP) Yes, more people are going to die. And in a variety of ways to....hehehe.... (Well, everyone probably already figured that out already. -.-; After all, if only one person dies, it wouldn't be that much fun, would it? XD)**

**Anywayz, please review! (Cyber-hugs are appreciated too!) -(n.n)-**

**_Ciaosies!_**

**Lucky**


	3. Vampire of London

Yo, Angel here with chapter 3 of this mystery of epic Hetalianess. I'm glad you guys seem to like it so far and needless to say that we are enjoying all your reviews. Unfortunately, next week I have killer exams, so I have devoured Lucky's soul to fuel my brain. Yay! Anyway, enjoy the chapter and I'll be sure to barf up Lucky so she can give you the next installment.

This chapter is especially for:

**Rinael, AnimeDutchess, Mad Half Hour, Compleatly Random Disorder, deidarafangirl, marmoki, Uzumaki kagome-chan, Kitty29, greenpanic6, silver windflame, Penumbra9, Alex, mankinfan, scizzors, Bria, confused (yes, they are that stupid XD), and Kathy R. Edgeworth  
**

**Disclaimer:** We don't own. If Angel owned, England would rule the world. If Lucky owned, let's just say everyone would be one with Russia.

* * *

"Okay, everyone turn in your hands!" America shouted a day after the unusually solemn World Meeting. China merely gazed in wonder at all the other nations stationed around the circular table, cards in their hands. So far, he'd been trying to figure out what kind of strange game they were playing, but to little avail. Still, they seemed to be having fun, yesterday's sorrow and fear melting away into the comfortably normal idiocy.

Not every nation was present, China noticed, but then this wasn't really an official meeting. All the Allies were there along with Latvia, Estonia, Lithuania and Belarus, who had come with Russia. Then of course, Korea had shown up 'especially for him'. The thought made him want to hurl himself out of the closest window. Spain came in shortly after, dragging Romano behind him, claiming he needed some 'stress relief'.

Like his life was so hard, try being picked on by your younger brother who you practically raised yourself. Then finally Poland arrived and decided to stick around seeing that Lithuania was there, and promptly sat between him and Estonia, keeping him as far away from Russia as possible without the stronger nation noticing.

"I have two threes!" Russia cried in joy, jarring China out of his observations. Latvia noticeably flinched at Russia's proclamation, and began to hurriedly wipe the ever-present tears out of his eyes. Estonia and Lithuania merely kept their eyes directed at their feet.

"I fold," France sighed, laying his hand down with a very depressed expression.

"Alright, lay them down!" America commanded. All the nations obeyed and threw down their hands. All except for France, who merely stared glumly at everyone else. "Okay, here we go!" America, who was holding the rest of the deck, began to throw cards down into the middle of the table while the rest of the nations tensed expectantly. They vaguely reminded China of bears sitting in a steam waiting for the poor salmon to jump out so they could devour them.

Suddenly, a tanned hand came down when a jack of clubs appeared, causing the entire table to shudder.

"Yes!" Spain cheered in triumph. "I slapped the jack!"

"Winner is Spain!" America announced. "China!" he said, pointing at the rather confused Asian. "Points!"

"Uh…"

"Nine!" Canada shouted from next to his brother, then noticing that everyone was looking in his direction, bowed his head and fiddled shyly with his glasses.

"Nine to Spain," America declared. "Russia!"

"Queen and King of hearts!" he replied, his constant smile never wavering. China only gave him a strange look, still not sure exactly what was going on. This game seemed to have started out of nowhere. China studied all their faces, from France, to Canada, to Spain, an annoyed Romano, Korea, Poland, Lithuania, and the other Baltic nations. They all seemed to know exactly what to do in this completely random game, and China wondered perhaps if they possessed the power to read each other's minds.

"Ten points, Russia! Any bets? Any bets?"

"Like, all in!" Poland proclaimed. China noticed that he wasn't the only one confused. England looked like he was about to sink his teeth into the edge of the table if this went on much longer.

"Liet!"

"Huh?"

"Poland gets triple, but Spain slapped the Jack so he gets half!"

"Yes, Romano needs a new pair of shoes!" Spain yelled, pumping his fist into the air.

"Idiot," the Italian muttered.

"What? Like, that's so totally not cool!" Poland whined. "Liet, how could you?"

"Don't complain, you're not the one who had to fold," France muttered miserably.

"May I ask what the bloody hell you're all playing?" England finally asked, thick eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. The nations looked from one to the other, then finally looked back at England.

"We don't know," they replied all at once. England's forehead met the tabletop with a thud and he let out a miserable groan that sounded a lot like, _'I'm surrounded by idiots'_.

"No one asked you to play, pops," America reminded bluntly, gathering the cards and shuffling them.

"Ugh, don't call me that," England growled, his green eyes raising to glare at his younger brother.

"But that's kind of what you are," Canada spoke up timidly. "You did raise us both." England merely let his head collapse on the table again, obviously devastated that the smarter one of the North American twins was being corrupted by his flashier brother.

"Way to give it to him, Bro!" America laughed, slapping Canada on the back. Canada merely gave a meek smile. China found himself amazed at how much the two nations looked alike, yet how different their personalities were. When he first met America, he didn't think there was another nation in the world quite like him, but seeing him with Canada proved him at least half wrong. Then again, it was only until recently that he had forgotten completely who Canada was.

"Here's a crazy thought, instead of playing useless card games, shouldn't we figure out what to do about this killer running around?" England offered, obviously more irritated than usual.

"I already figured that out," Russia spoke up, his ever smiling face brightening further. China was still stuck on the whole Canada/America issue, and gasped a little as Russia slung a heavy arm around his shoulders. "I think everyone should come live with me, that way you'll all be protected because you'll all be one with Russia." China gulped a little as he spotted Belarus glaring at him from the other side of her brother, toying with the tip of her knife.

"That is the stupidest idea I've ever heard!" England declared.

"For once I agree," America said.

"I disagree with both of you!" France announced, his gloomy air turning into one of vibrant happiness. China had to rub his eyes in disbelief. He could have sworn a background of pink roses magically appeared behind him.

"You silly git, you just want to be a pain in my ass!" England snarled, grabbing the other nation by the collar of his blue uniform, thus making the pink roses vanish. "Lord knows I have enough of those to last a lifetime!" His green eyes swiveled to America, who was currently trying to balance a pen on the tip of his nose, Canada watching carefully, awaiting the inevitable drop.

"Oh, mon amour," France cooed, letting the palm of his hand rest on England's face and turning it so that their eyes met. China felt awkward watching such a scene, and England seemed to feel the same, a pink blush spreading across his cheeks. The poor, trapped nation stiffened as France's face came closer, his mouth twitching into a smile, his thumb stroking the side of England's face.

France had no issues with public displays of affection, but China was able to see discomfort etched all over England's face. He knew the violated nation wanted nothing more than to back away and give France a good punch in the face, but all nations knew that once France gave you a certain look, it was like Medusa was staring you in the face.

"Hey lovebirds, get a room ~ aru!" China spoke up. However, France seemed to have no intention of doing so, and leaned heavily against England's chest. It was like seeing the cover of one of those trash romance novels, the kind China knew nations like America skipped through to get to the 'good parts'. Yet, instead of the handsome gentleman staring intensely down at the girl, all China saw was a deeply embarrassed soul who was on the verge of being toppled over by the 'girl' in question. It was kind of funny. In a sort of twisted sick way.

"Oh, mon amour," France murmured repeatedly until his lips were inches away from England's, who's face reminded China of a tomato. Out of curiosity, he looked towards Spain to see if he was getting any sort of reaction, but found the other nation too busy trying to get Romano to speak to him. He wasn't having much luck, and China took a second to pity him. "You need a mint."

That seemed to break the curse, and England's face turned from red to a dark purple. China feared he was going to have an aneurism until he took a swing at the Frenchman's head. Although China wasn't a big fan of France, he had to admire the grace in which he dodged the blow.

Of course, the nation _was_ known for his beauty and delicious food. China figured France could make practically anything look graceful, but quickly dismissed this thought as France lunged across the table towards Russia, effectively knocking England backwards into America, who dropped the pen.

"You idiot, you made me lose it!"

"Oh, shut up you ungrateful little wanker!"

Russia continued to smile placidly at all the commotion, seemingly oblivious to the other nation's advance. Wrapping his arms around Russia's neck, France landed in his lap with a tingling laugh. The background of pink roses reappeared and China made a mental note to see a doctor about the strange visions.

"Actually I'd _love _to live with you," France smiled. China knew he didn't need to be jealous. Belarus contained enough for them both and she was currently readying her knife behind the unaware country, prepared to stab him in the side. Russia also didn't notice, merely happy that everyone was active and keeping things interesting.

"So you'll be one with Russia?" the larger nation questioned.

"Will I ever!" France exclaimed. China was mildly disgusted at the display and had half a mind to _let_ Belarus stab him, but thought one nation dead was enough, and instead bent down until he was looking under the table.

"Well, what do you know? There's a naked couple under here in a midst of passion ~ aru. Looks like they could use one more ~ aru." From above, he heard the expected gasp, and straightened in his chair in time to see France bend over just as Belarus swung the knife.

The blade flew over his hunched back, and lodged itself in the edge of the table. China felt his stomach drop all the way to his groin as Belarus gave him a glare that contained enough venom to kill a bull elephant.

_May Satan's little sister have mercy on my soul, _he thought miserably. _Why is it always me that gets picked on ~ aru? And why did I compare her to Satan ~ aru? I don't even believe in Satan ~ aru. All this European influence is starting to get to me ~ aru._

Belarus attempted to pull the knife out of the side of the table, but it was too deeply embedded and she began to struggle in frustration. China (although wanting to smile) remained stoic knowing Belarus was even more unstable than her older brother, who was now innocently playing with the ends of his scarf. He seemed blissfully ignorant of the fact France's butt was directly in front of his face as the other nation searched in vain for the naked couple under the table.

China was a bit envious of the Russian's talent for ignoring rather disturbing situations. In all his 4000 years or so of being alive, there had been people and places he wished he could just not see (Korea being the primary candidate). Still, maybe since he and Russia had formed an alliance that started simply as an immigrant deal, he might be able to master such a craft.

China carefully sneaked a glance at Korea, who was now attempting to catch the single gravity-defying strand of hair on top of his head between his hands. China had to blink yet again as he saw a small face in the curl of the strand. It had an almost teasing expression. Yeah. Doctor. Good plan.

"Ugh, you lied to me!" France cried, sitting up and tossing his silky blond hair out of his face. "There was no passionate love making under there, just very drab pants and horribly unstylish shoes."

"Oh, I guess they left then ~ aru," China replied, letting his elbow rest on the table. "Might want to be quicker next time ~ aru," he added in a whisper.

France gave a huff and sat back in Russia's lap, crossing his legs and folding his arms across his chest.

"Romano, after the lessons I gave your brother about quality fashion, I hoped he'd at least pass on my teachings to you," he scolded.

"Yeah, well, I don't tend to take the advice of dumb asses. Especially if it was passed down to that dumb ass by another dumb ass," Romano stated, studying his nails in utter boredom.

"Ugh, you are a rude little monster!" France squealed, tears in his eyes.

Belarus was still attempting to dislodge her knife, now redirecting her dagger-like glare at the nation who dare sit on her precious older brother. France noticed her struggles and watched her for a moment, his hurt tears magically evaporating.

_I need to get away from these people and save what ounce of sanity I have left ~ aru, _China thought.

"Do you need some help, jolie dame?" France asked, giving Belarus a wink, before grabbing the handle of the knife and freeing it from the table. "For you, my dear." He gave one of his most charming smiles as he stupidly handed the knife back to her. China let his palm hit his forehead and released a groan of exasperation.

Perhaps he should also form an alliance with England over the fact they were _both _surrounded by idiots.

"Can we please focus!" England finally shouted. "There's a killer running around, and you're all acting like a bunch of ninnies!" France sighed, and removed himself from Russia's lap, making his way around the table back to his original place next to England.

"Alright, alright, don't blow a heart valve," he said. England wisely chose to ignore the remark and cleared his throat.

"Switzerland was invaded an killed two days ago," he began. "So far our main suspects are Austria and Hungary, seeing as they're the only two with enough motive. Also, they've been bullying Liechtenstein, so why not go after her brother who might very well be a threat?"

"But Switzerland was neutral," America pointed out. "Plus, whoever invaded didn't stay and claim the land. Austria and Hungary want land. Whoever this was just went in, killed everyone, and then left."

"Plus Switzerland was anything but a weak country," Romano added. "He and his guards protect the Vatican in Rome."

"Oh, I know, I know!" Russia said, raising his hand.

"What?" England growled. "Please tell me it's something _remotely_ intelligent."

"It's a tactic."

"A what?" Korea asked, giving up on trying to catch his hair.

_Leave it to Korea to not know what a tactic is, _China thought.

"A tactic. A strategy," Russia answered enthusiastically. "We've all recognized Switzerland's neutrality. If someone violates that and attacks him without warning, we all go to war with that nation. However, in this case, they invaded and practically wiped out all of his people over night, without anyone knowing who they were."

"You mean, _all _of his people were killed?" Canada questioned in horror.

"Well, not all," France assured, placing a comforting hand on his former colony's shoulder. "Many escaped to Liechtenstein, which was why she felt the need to visit him yesterday. I received some as well, but most fled to Germany since most of Switzerland's people speak his language. Still, Germany has reparations to pay, so I doubt he'd let them stay unless he'd use them for cheap labor or something."

"Italy and I still have his guards in Vatican City too," Romano supplied.

"So basically what you're saying is that they attack unsuspecting countries and in a single night, wipe out an entire population, kill the nation, and then leave so when we go to investigate we don't know who did it," Spain concluded.

"Yes," Russia smiled, a dark shadow creeping over his face, making it appear as if his violet eyes were glowing. "It's quite an ingenious tactic if you think about it. Attack someone without warning and then leave the land to ruin. No one knows it's you, so no one can declare war against you. They all become fearful trying to figure it out."

Russia gathered the cards from the center of the table, and set them up against one another, until there were twelve miniature houses.

"They become so focused on who attacked who, that you sneak in and conquer them one by one." He began to knock the card houses over with a single jab of his pointer finger. "Eventually, when all of them are good and dead, you can claim your land with no one in your way."

"Yes, but whoever this is wiped out an entire nation in less than twelve hours," England pointed out. "None of us have the power to do that, even if the nation was caught unaware, and like Romano said, Switzerland was anything but a weakling."

"Yes, but notice how I say 'they'," Russia replied.

"Y-you mean, like, there's more than one of them?" Poland asked fearfully.

"Usually that's what 'they' means in English, yes?"

"But the question remains: how many are there?" Belarus added.

"Whoa!" America exclaimed. Everyone glanced at him oddly and he gave a sheepish grin. "Sorry, I just didn't think she could talk."

"Oh, that sounds so apocalyptic!" Canada shivered.

"Don't worry Canada, I'll protect you, for I am a hero!" America declared, wrapping an arm around his younger twin.

"Ah, it _is_ just a theory." Russia's smile returned to its usual cheerfulness and he rubbed the back of his head bashfully. "I could be wrong, but it makes sense. None of us has been to the scene of the crime except when we removed Switzerland's body, so if we really want to look for clues we might want to check there."

"Yes, but who do we know is smart enough to think of something like that?" England pondered. "We can rule out America, that's for sure."

"Hey!"

"Oh, Russia-chan, Bela!" a new voice called from the doorway of meeting room. China watched as Russia's face lit up and he stood abruptly from his chair.

"Big sis!" he cried, running to greet the new arrival.

"How's my baby brother doing?" the woman cooed, patting Russia on the head when he approached. Belarus didn't even look at her older sister, but kept her gaze trained on Russia.

"Ukraine," she stated calmly.

"Whoa!" America exclaimed again, blue eyes wide.

"Yes you dolt, we've established she can talk!" England snapped in irritation.

"No, I mean…" America swallowed roughly, fiddling with his tie. "She has-"

"Large breasts!" France finished excitedly, making gooey eyes at Ukraine's 'womanly gifts'.

"Breasts?" Korea asked, his head swiveling from side to side like some strange bird. "Is Japan here?"

"Oh how wonderfully supple and perky they are!" France complimented, his fingers tightening into fists in front of his mouth. His body began to squirm as a huge grin played across his madly blushing face.

"Uh…thanks. I think?" Ukraine smiled weakly, bringing the basket of milk she was holding in front of her chest self consciously.

"Where are the breasts?" Korea demanded.

"Before my very eyes and melting my very soul," France murmured.

"Ah ha," Russia giggled, producing a rather large, intimidating pipe from the folds of his coat. "My big sis isn't available."

"Oh, so she has a significant other?" France sighed depressingly.

"No," Russia said.

"Then she is a lesbian?"

"What?" Ukraine exclaimed. "No!"

"Then that's plenty availa- ouch!" France cried as England grabbed him by the ear and twisted it cruelly.

"Stop harassing the poor girl you pervert!"

"Oh, but England no worries! You are still number one in my- ow!" France squealed again as England gave his ear another rough yank. "You know, this is kind of turning me on - ow, ow, ow!"

"Is there like, anything that doesn't?" Poland asked.

"Spider veins, snaggle teeth, and anyone who has the middle initial K," France answered.

"Like, why the K?"

"Because he's a freak like most of the people I'm forced to interact with on a daily basis!" England yelled, giving France's ear another twist. China felt a momentary wave of pity overcome him, but remembered it was France, and thus turned his attention to Ukraine and Russia.

"Big sis, did you come to pay me for that oil I gave you?" Russia asked, his tone strangely hopeful.

"Russia-chan, we've been over this. Your big sis will pay you back when she gets rich," Ukraine answered patiently. "In the mean time, I brought you some milk that I got from my cows this morning!" She handed him one of the glass bottles from her basket and twisted off the lid.

"Oh, um, thanks." For once, Russia's smile faltered as he looked down into the white substance. "And look at that, it's so fresh it still even has the little hairs floating around in it, yummy." China had to keep himself from laughing, noting that America was also having trouble on this front. France was still in the ear war with England, while the rest of the nations were watching curiously.

"Well, aren't you going to drink it?" Ukraine asked. "Hurry or it will ferment!"

"Oh, God forbid," Russia said, before tilting his head back and downing the entire bottle. He gasped a little, before reaching into his mouth and plucking a few hairs off his tongue. "Delicious," he panted, eyes watering slightly. "I can practically taste the udder."

"Oh wonderful!" Ukraine cheered. "I bet that was better than any amount of money I could pay you. Would you like some, Bela?"

"No thank you," the youngest of the three siblings replied.

"Oh no!" Ukraine cried suddenly. "I forgot I was forbidden to give you anything, Russia-chan! My boss is going to be so mad at me!"

"Don't worry, big sis, it was only one bottle," Russia assured, still removing hairs from his mouth.

"Oh, he's going to give me so much grief!" she sighed. "I'm sorry Russia-chan, but I better go now before my boss finds me gone. He's so mean and scary, I'm afraid he'll yell at me!" Kissing Russia once on the cheek and taking the glass bottle from his hand, Ukraine hurried out the door.

"That was interesting," America spoke up after a moment of awkward silence.

"Yeah, like, just hope you don't get like, e coli," Poland offered. "Right Liet?"

"Uh, yeah," the other nation murmured softly, still not looking up. China caught the concerned look in Poland's eyes before they narrowed and directed themselves at Russia. There was something China didn't like about Poland's stare. It lacked its usual vibrancy and mischief, consumed by frigid cold hatred. It was the look of a country that wanted to fight a war, but knew better than to start one. China watched Poland's arm wrap protectively around Lithuania's shoulders as Russia walked by to return to his seat. China felt his own eyes narrow considerably at the suspicious display.

Was Poland capable of killing a nation in a single night? China was aware of the smaller nation's history, of how despite the seemingly complete absence of common sense, he was incredibly resilient. If Russia was right, and there was more than one killer, was Poland one of them? China shook his head roughly. One mean look didn't mean a nation was a murderer, but still…

"We have returned!"

"Italy, that's great!" America greeted happily, then paused. "Uh, returned from where?" China was distracted from his previous thoughts at the sight of the younger Italian brother. He was dressed in what looked like something Sherlock Holmes might wear, complete with a giant magnifying glass. A troubled Germany and a calm Japan flanked either side of him. China gave a smile and wave to Japan, who conveniently looked away from him. That stung.

"We went to Switzerland's house to see if we could find any clues and solve the mystery!" Italy answered.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" France smiled, head tilted at an odd angle due to England's relentless grip.

"Yeah, 'wonderful'," Romano repeated sarcastically. "What could my stupid brother and his two faithful monkeys possibly _not_ accomplish?"

"Take it, Germany!" Italy said, pointing dramatically at his companion. Germany didn't share the enthusiasm as his troubled blue eyes swept across the room. China noticed the way his fists tensed around a pair of heavy binoculars. America apparently noticed this also and turned in his chair.

"Hey, those are the binoculars I gave Switzerland."

"So they were a gift," Italy mused.

"Um, yeah…I guess you could say that. Tony and I were out exploring one day and he accidentally wandered into Switzerland's yard. I gave them to him so he wouldn't shoot."

"Then that brings our first theory into play," Japan answered. Germany wet his lips nervously and released a breath. It was completely out of character for the usually stern nation, and China feared what they might have discovered. If Germany looked so uncomfortable, he could only imagine, and Italy's happiness did little to alleviate his worry. He jumped slightly as he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Russia looking down at him.

"You look tense," he said. China gave him a weak smile and placed his own hand over the larger one.

"We found these binoculars," Germany said, obviously avoiding looking at America. "We think that Switzerland might have swung them to protect himself. We had two theories, one of them being the killer might have used them as a weapon, but after what you've just told us Switzerland using them makes more sense."

"Yes, but tell them what else we found, Germany!" Italy persisted. Germany looked down at his boots and nervously rubbed his arm.

"I-I think Japan should," Germany stuttered. Japan merely bowed his head and held up two plastic bags.

"We found a sequin, which Italy-kun believes to be a decoration to a mask, meaning Switzerland couldn't see who did it or call for help."

"So the killer wore a mask?" Spain asked.

"That's original," Romano remarked.

"Yeah, but that's not the main thing we found!" Italy said. "Tell them, tell them!"

"We also found this." Japan held up the second baggy. "A blond hair that is too dark to be Switzerland's. It was wrapped around the binoculars."

"Wait, you think he used those binoculars to defend himself?" England asked.

"That's correct," Japan confirmed. "The killer did a very poor job of cleaning up the crime scene. He bleached the carpet in attempts to hide the blood. He also made a very sad attempt to make it look like a suicide, as we found Switzerland's body in bed with a knife in his hand, which was obviously not the murder weapon if you all recall."

"I remember," China said. "Switzerland was stabbed, but the knife in his hand was clean ~aru. We all came to the conclusion that the killer took the knife he used with him ~aru."

"Yes, and judging from the bleach stains in his room, Switzerland was pushed to the ground, where he was stabbed the first time. It was at this point that Germany uncovered the binoculars nearby, which we now believe he used to defend himself by swinging them upwards and catching the killer on the side of the head. We confirmed this because we found the hair caught in the edge of the lens," Japan finished.

"So you're saying that…" England swallowed, finally releasing France's ear. "That…"

"Hey America, don't you have that nasty knot on the side of your head?" Romano asked.

"Really?" Italy exclaimed, clambering over to where America was sitting and practically jumping on top of him, wielding his magnifying glass.

"Hey, quit that!" America yelled, as Italy forcibly pushed America's hair out of his face.

"Hey, he does have a bruise!"

"Italy, enough!" Canada shouted, grabbing the smaller nation by the collar of his cloak and lifting him off of America.

"We solved the mystery!" Italy exclaimed, wriggling like a trapped fish in Canada's grip. "America's hair is dark blond like the hair!"

"B-but that doesn't prove anything!" England stated. "America's too stupid to think of something like that!"

"Really appreciate the support, England," America muttered.

"My brother would never do something like that!" Canada insisted, placing Italy back on his feet and positioning himself in front of America. "He's not a killer! He'd never hurt another nation!"

"Evidence suggests otherwise," Germany stated quietly, still not looking at America. "I don't want to believe it either. America…America, you've helped me so much…I'm sorry."

"I'm not a murderer!" America cried. "I wasn't anywhere near Switzerland's house the night of the murder! I live on the other side of the planet for God's sake!"

"I know America, he may be kind of a jerk sometimes, but he would never harm another nation without at least telling them first!" Canada persisted. "He's not a killer! He's not!" China found Canada's sudden emotion strange. Most forgot he even existed, but now he seemed incredibly powerful, just like the brother he was defending.

China felt Russia's hand tighten on his shoulder and looked up to see the larger nation watching Canada closely.

"So America-kun has a bruise on the side of his face, and the hair we found matches his hair color."

"That doesn't prove anything!" Canada took a step back, his blue eyes narrowing. "It's all circumstantial. There are plenty of nations with blond hair. Besides, we don't know where the bruise came from!"

"Hey Canada, did you cut your hair?" Italy asked out of the blue. "It looks great!"

Canada blinked in confusion and China felt his head begin to throb with all the stupid floating around.

"What does that have...? Eh, _anyway_!" Canada shouted, the confusion replaced by his previous seriousness. "My hair is not the point! The point is you're accusing my brother of murder based on circumstantial evidence!"

"That's true, this evidence _is_ purely circumstantial," Japan began. "There are many nations who have blond hair, and just because America-kun happens to have a bruise doesn't necessarily mean-"

"But!" Italy began. "Where di-"

"SHUT UP!" America suddenly shot out of his chair, causing it to topple over with a loud clatter. China felt his eyes widen at the sudden outburst, whereas Italy looked like he was about to cry. However, America paid no attention. He was standing rigid, hands clenched into trembling fists as he stared at the floor. His hair covered his eyes, but his mouth was visible and twisted into a grimace.

Everyone was shocked at America's unusual display of anger. Even Russia's purple eyes were slightly larger, and every nation's mouth was agape. The silence became the loudest thing in the room, until Canada turned to his twin, blue eyes a mixture of concern and terror.

"A-America?" he asked cautiously, reaching out a tentative hand and placing it on his brother's shoulder.

"What in the seven hells has gotten into you?" England demanded, ready for another fight. With anger and confusion etched on his face, he was about to walk over to the trembling nation, but was stopped by France's hand on his sleeve.

"England, don't," he whispered, eyes directed at the floor.

"What are you…?"

"S'il vous plaît ne pas…" Even in his own language, France seemed to be struggling, his blue eyes deeply troubled as he stared up at England. Finally, he let out a shaky sigh and titled his head towards the doorway. China followed his gesture and felt his chest tighten when he saw Liechtenstein standing there, her eyes blank saucers.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as she entered the room, seemingly oblivious to everything around her. Her hands were balled into fists, clutching the skirt of her black dress. China couldn't help but think how perfect the color was for the occasion as she approached Switzerland's chair. It was the one stationed next to Japan's, the one none of them had the heart, courage, or desire to remove.

"Brother," Liechtenstein murmured softly, running her hand across the back. No one breathed, although China noticed America's trembling increased. There was something definitely wrong with him, but Liechtenstein was his main concern as she too began to shake beneath the black cloth of her dress. Her eyes misted over and her lips began to quiver.

"B-Brother," she whimpered, a thin trail of tears falling down her cheeks. Her hand curled into a fist and shook against the back of Switzerland's chair. Suddenly, she fell to her knees, burying her face into the seat and letting out a painful sob. "Vash!" she suddenly screamed, her small shoulders quaking as she cried. "Vash! I-Ich vermisse dich!" Germany had to turn away as she spoke his language, begging her brother to come back. "V-Vash!" she called into the cushion of the chair. "Vash, Ich brauche dich!"

"I'm not feeling well," America said suddenly, refusing to look up. "I have to go." Without another word, he stormed out of the room.

"A-America!" Canada called, concern and anxiety mixed in his voice. "America, wait!" America didn't so much as glance over his shoulder as he turned around the corner and vanished. "Alfred, please!" Canada hesitated for only a brief second, before hurrying after his twin. "Alfred, please don't go! Alfred!" His voice faded down the hall, leaving the room silent save for Liechtenstein's heartbreaking sobs.

"I.." Germany began quietly, before swallowing. "I think we should go."

China whole-heartedly agreed.

"Can we get pasta!?" Italy exclaimed.

"Yeah," Germany replied, giving the smaller nation a brave smile. "Yeah, I think we can."

* * *

Hooray! I love Germany, he has such a kind heart beneath all the sterness. After England, he's my favorite out of everyone. Anyway, we hope you enjoyed this installation of Seven Little Killers. Lucky should update soon... I think. If I haven't digested her yet.

Okay, Translation time! If I'm wrong please correct me. My German and French are rather rusty lol. France is saying "Please do not" to England and Liechtenstein is basically saying she misses Switzerland and needs him. *sniffle* T^T


	4. Angel of Death

**...T^T Me's too slow.**

**Anywayz, it's Lucky again! I've been regurgitated after Angel digested my soul. -.-; Well, at least she did good on the exam...that makes me feel like my soul went to good use...**

**Shout out to these awesome people who reviewed!**

**Uzumaki kagome-chan, AnimeDutchess, Kitty29, greenpanic6, Penumbra9, RingoNeko 201, SheWhoRunsWithScissors, xYukii, Compleatly Random Dissorder, bbbaaiilleeyyy16, Soy Soy Joo, silver windflame, EmoLollipop, and Kathy R. Edgeworth! **

**I'm sorry, but I just have to give this shout out. Uzumaki kagome-chan officially made both Angel and I lolz so hard. If you guys have any free time, you should read her theory. She currently holds first place for most original theory!**

**Now, please enjoy the fourth chapter of** **Seven Little Killers, and the second attack!**

**Disclaimer: If Angel owned Hetalia, England would be with France. If Lucky owned Hetalia, England would be with America. ...We have to cut him in half!**

* * *

"You were observing Canada~aru."

Russia blinked, looking up from the island in the middle of the kitchen. China looked back at the larger nation for a moment, then turned back to the pot of boiling water that was soon to become tea. Russia was fine with tea, but he didn't understand why China didn't just drink vodka instead. "Oh. Well, I guess," Russia said, smiling, scratching his cheek gently. "I mean, Canada _was_ getting awfully hotheaded back there. More so than America."

"…You think Canada is one of the killers~aru?"

Russia sighed and looked out the window. He really didn't like these sort of talks much, but he didn't want to make China unhappy. For whatever reason, once the Asian country became discontented, _he_ suddenly felt guilty. "Well, I don't know if Canada would be a killer…but I do think that at least something is on his mind."

China thought with a frown, looking at the teakettle and pursing his lips gently. "At the least~aru~you seem to be good at this detective stuff."

"Mmm…I'm not," Russia said, lowering his head into his arms. The marble counter felt cool, not like they'd need any help up this far north. But Russia discovered early on that it helped him think. "This just happens to be a very easy case."

"You think so~aru?"

Russia turned his head slightly so he could see China. The smaller nation had his back turned, but Russia could practically see the confused expression. It wasn't that China was not smart. It was more that China just didn't like accepting facts that would make him unhappy. Then he would pretend to be stupid, and usually make everyone around him slightly irritated at the fact that he had created Confucianism, but did not understand the concept of Global Warming. China had major denial problems.

"Well, okay, maybe not that easy," Russia admitted.

"That really made me feel better~aru," China muttered inaudibly.

"What was that you said?"

"N-Nothing~aru!" Russia's cheerful voice made China jump a little. And no one would have blamed him. Russia smiled slightly at China's reaction (he heard every word the Asian said), but then his smile slowly faded.

"I…do have another theory."

"Really?!" China's cry was much too excited. Okay, maybe he wasn't as deep into denial as Russia had previously thought…

Russia closed his eyes slightly. "Say…the killer has a guilty conscience. If they feel bad about assaulting Switzerland. That might be why they left such obvious clues lying around. No killer in their own right would leave a weapon that signaled struggle, much less leave a clean knife in the victim's hand. That killer is practically begging to be caught. Telling us that the killer not only feels bad about Switzerland, but is also very smart if they thought out of the box to this extreme."

China kept facing away from Russia. He didn't dare turn around, in case the larger nation dared to see China's shocked face. "So…that's why you were suspecting Canada," China said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Because Canada would seem like the person that would feel the need to make amends."

"Well yes, Canada was one. I also suspected him because of the fact that he seemed to be so on edge when Germany, Italy, and Japan showed up," Russia sighed. "Another was Liechtenstein, but considering the overwhelming grief that she showed today, I'm sure that it wasn't acting. More people that might be the killer are Greece, Japan himself, and many others. I don't know why, but I don't feel that too many of the European countries would be involved in something like this."

"Why not~aru?"

Russia frowned again, not like China would notice. "I don't know. I think it's just a gut feeling. Do you think that any of the Asian countries would be a killer? Remember, there's more than one, which means the possibility of every country being a killer rises."

China looked up, tapping his chin with his index finger, apparently deep in thought. "I highly doubt it~aru. Japan…might~aru, which makes me sad to think about~aru. I don't know too well about Taiwan, Hong Kong, or Vietnam, however~aru."

"Isn't that the same as saying that you don't know well enough about what any of them would do?" Russia said, unable to stop the smallest smile from coming across his face. China huffed and shifted his weight onto his left leg.

"No~aru," China declared indignantly. Then, his face softened a bit. "But Russia…I agree with what you said before."

"What? The fact that you have no clue what you're doing?"

"No~aru! The fact that…well…this case…is too easy~aru."

Russia's eyes narrowed and his lips pulled down into a frown again.

"I-I mean, why does it seem like everything points at America~aru?"

Russia sighed, his forehead hitting the marble with a _thump_ that made China jump. "China," he said wearily, "There are three reasonable possibilities at this point about how the killer disguised their motives. One—the killer is simply stupid. Two—the killer did this out of a guilty conscience. Three—the killer is trying to frame someone else."

"Four," China continued, "Everything is fake~aru."

Russia froze. He lifted his head to look at the Asian nation, who had finally turned around, brown eyes serious. China really looked like he had actually believed that one assumption that he had just said. And Russia mentally kicked himself when he realized that this notion didn't even cross his mind.

"…What?"

"Think about it~aru," China pressed, sounding slightly desperate. He finally abandoned the stove's side and leaned forward over the other side of the island, facing Russia, propped up by his elbows. "What if the killer just wants us to freak out~aru? I know you brought this up at the meeting~aru, but what if the killer laid false evidence~aru? I mean, I know for sure that _any_ nation would not be stupid enough to leave evidence like this lying around~aru. And then there's another problem~aru! Why did the killer bother hiding it~aru?!"

"Hide what?"

"His identity~aru!" China slammed his fist down on the table. "I know that the killer will kill again~aru, and I also know that the nation does not want to be caught~aru, but if what you said was right, then the nation has a guilty conscience~aru. Why did they hide their identity if that was the case~aru?"

Russia frowned. "…The killer…sorry, _killers_-" China winced at the plural form of the word. "-Are probably operating under someone. That would make some sense…

"That means that all of the killers are united under one person. That just makes everything more difficult for us. If they're all following one nation's orders, then that means the nation that they're uniting under is both very brilliant and very manipulative. They would also seem to be very humane, considering the fact that they were able to persuade more than one person to join their cause, and also be very inhumane if they were to run around killing billions of people."

China's brow immediately furrowed into a look of confusion. Russia sighed. China's denial was going to be his own death. "You lost me~aru," China sighed, pouting unconsciously. It really amazed Russia how China could be so brilliant in one second and then turn completely Italy the next. And for some strange reason, that seemed to cause Russia to lose whatever patience he had left.

What did China think? That if he denied the truth and pretended that he was stupid he would always have a barrier protecting him from the outside world? That people would pity him and that no one else would ever dare hurt him? That reality would never be able to touch his artificially created world?

"Maybe if you go and take a breather outside it would help!" Russia snapped.

…

China's hurt face only lasted up to five seconds. However, that was enough to make Russia feel horribly guilty. "Oh, China, wait-"

"No, you're right~aru!" China cut in, his face brightening. "I need to get some more milk too and then I promised Japan that I'd stop by for lunch~aru!" Russia blinked, then looked out the window. It was only in the early hours of dawn. A bit early to set off for lunch isn't it…?

"Don't you think you should wait a while before-?"

"Oh, and Taiwan said that she had a few things that she wanted me to look into~aru," China continued, frowning and looking up at the ceiling, pointedly ignoring Russia. "Not to mention the fact that my boss said that he had to tell me something, and I skipped out on him yesterday~aru…he won't be happy…"

"Why don't you at least-?"

"Have breakfast~aru?" China said dismissively, not looking at Russia at all as he opened the door to the kitchen. "Well yes, I _should_ pick up something on the way~aru…America keeps on telling me that hamburgers taste the best in the morning, though I personally don't like them very much at all~aru…"

"Maybe you could just-"

"Eat here~aru?" China shook his head dismissively. "It'll take too long. And I have to get going~aru. Busy day, you know?"

Russia admitted defeat. Getting in the way of a temperamental and stubborn China was not something that he wanted to do at three in the morning. He also took into consideration that he was only half-awake, and to deal with an angry China, you needed to be sugar high. "Don't be too long."

"Just a quickie," China promised, swooping down and giving Russia a quick peck on the forehead (which he actually only did when he was majorly pissed at Russia). China then walked out of the room, slamming the door rather forcefully behind him, as if to remind Russia that he wasn't very happy and was not_ going_ to be until about three hours of venting to poor Japan.

The room suddenly became very, _very_ quiet.

Russia sighed again. "Lovers spats," he muttered murderously, yawning. "And why do I have to lose every time?" A few minuets later, he fell asleep, head in his arms.

~*~-~*~

I looked in the kitchen window from my perch on the tree branch. God, I just hoped I didn't fall off. Wouldn't that be interesting? I bet it would be all over the papers. 'Killer falls off branch in the middle of stalking victim'. Wonderful. Wouldn't that be something to live up to?

My fingers gripped tighter around the tree trunk. It seemed like Russia was now asleep. I have to admit, that scene with China was pretty interesting. I had never seen Russia look so helpless. That's what love did to you, I suppose. And I guess that adding the fact that a sleepy Russia is completely harmless, China had a pretty easy win. (Unless, of course, the sleepy Russia was the half-drunk sort of sleepy. The world better flee at that point.)

But back to my task at hand. He said that I would have to attack Russia with the intent to kill. It would be easy at this point. All I had to do was get in the house, and find some way to kill Russia without too many points of evidence. (He was mad that Switzerland's killer left so many telltale signs. I bet White will be in trouble.) With Russia asleep, it would be easy to get into the house without any signs of being discovered.

I grabbed the branch with my hands and gently eased myself down. The tree was rough and cold with frost, causing my fingers to become slightly numb through my gloves. I shivered and wrapped my scarf a little tighter, adjusting my mask in the process. It wouldn't do to have it fall off.

I moved silently towards a window. It was just slightly jarred open—done by one of the other people under Him, I suppose, just so it made my day all that much easier. But…did they expect me to jump through it or something? Was I supposed to be a dog and leap through the window?

"Unreasonable," I muttered, a small mass of white particles streaming from my mouth as I spoke. I placed my hands on the windowsill, pushing down hard. I swung my left leg up, then my right, gently lowering my foot down to prod around for a flat landing surface. It seemed like the window was higher up than I expected, because my feet didn't meet any resistance. "Ugh."

I squeezed my eyes shut and simply let go of the ledge, dropping down.

_Thud_.

Thank goddess there wasn't anything under me. Rolling my eyes, I patted down my uniform and once again checked to make sure that my mask was still in place. It was. I turned around and waited patiently for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.

A few moments later, everything became clear…or at least _clearer_. It seemed like I was standing in a storage room…or a closet even. Though it must have been a very_ big_ closet from the looks of it. Boxes lined the room, some open but most of them sealed. It seemed like this room was hardly ever used. There were windows across the entire top, yet it didn't do the slightest to make the room any lighter.

I saw the slightest sliver of light pouring out. A door then. Creeping over and making sure not to trip over anything (I wouldn't have been surprised if I had), I gently moved my palm around to find the doorknob, slipped my fingers into the crack and opened it a little bit more.

It was a study. The light that I had seen came from the fireplace, which crackled and spat loudly as if alerting the residents of an intruder. I finally opened the door all the way, looking around the room. It was actually pretty plain, with tall, looming bookshelves lining the walls and plush seating by the fire, a simple rug covering the bare wooden floor. No paintings hung on the wall—no decorations at all, actually. Even the desk in the corner was plain, a hard-backed chair pulled up to it.

Frowning, I stepped into the room and stayed out of the flickering light. I highly doubted there were cameras, but it never hurt to stay on guard. Gently easing myself around the perimeter of the room, I backed into another doorknob. Turning it, I darted into the next room.

…Or not. It seemed like I ended up in a corridor this time. Sighing lightly with frustration, I moved down it without the slightest inkling of where I was going. It might help me if I wasn't so _directionally challenged_. I hated to admit it, but considering the fact that I hadn't been discovered yet (which in itself I think deserves a round of applause), I felt oddly confident.

I completely ignored all of the paintings that adorned the walls in the hallways—I wasn't here to sightsee. I could probably come back any time I wanted to after I finished with this job. After all, an abandoned house isn't that hard to take over. I bet plenty of nations will start snatching away pieces of Russia after this little scene is over. I wouldn't mind taking a little bit myself.

I walked up one flight of stairs, down another hallway, dodged someone coming up yet _another_ flight of stairs, and then finally found the kitchen. Unlike others, Russia had a closed off kitchen. It had four walls and one door, one window. I didn't really understand why, of course, but the larger nation had probably gotten awfully used to it. The light on the ceiling cast a genuine clarity over everything—not like that flickering fireplace back in the study.

I peered through the doorway from outside, careful to make sure that my shadow didn't fall into the light. Well, from what I could see, Russia was still asleep. There also seemed to be a very high pitched whistling sound, but I ignored it. It was probably just a vehicle outside that was malfunctioning. I stepped lightly into the room, turned out the lights, and held my breath, spots dancing in my eyes. Russia did no more than stir slightly though, so I was free to move about on my own. The sky was already becoming slightly pink—dawn was on the way.

Even though Russia appeared to be asleep, I still wanted to take precautions. I would have to make sure that he didn't wake up and call for help first. Looking around the kitchen, I spotted a long stick peeking out from under the window, the slight light making it so that I could _just_ make out the shape. Tiptoeing over, I saw that it was actually a frying pan. I grabbed it and gently tested its weight. I might look like a recreation of Hungary, but this will have to do.

Quietly moving up behind the sleeping nation, I looked at the pan once more. I seriously contemplated just dropping it and getting a knife and stabbing Russia to death, but it would have left loads of evidence and doing the same thing twice wasn't that much fun, now was it? Deciding that I had to use the frying pan in the end, I started thinking about how I could maim Russia with it. Well, I could always slap the flat of the pan against the back of his head. No, that was bound to cause a loud _bong_. So maybe…

I slowly raised the pan above my head, moving my hands so I held the sides of it, the handle pointed down. Biting my lip and praying that Russia wouldn't wake up, I swung the pan down until the metal handle landed right on his head. It gave a slight and sickening _crunch_, and strangely enough, it didn't echo dramatically like it would have in movies. Huh. I was kinda looking forward to that.

But at least now Russia was unresponsive. Though the attack might have caused a normal person to die, it probably would only throw a nation into a coma. Leaning in slightly, I could just make out the indentation which seemed to be about one inch deep. There was no blood—another disappointment. I moved back to the stove and set the frying pan down.

Oh. So that's what was making the noise. It seemed to be a kettle of boiling water left on the stove. Huh. I thought back, thinking if anyone had entered the room after China left. Oh yeah. China _was_ boiling a pot of water before he stormed out the room. I cocked my head. I could actually use this.

I grabbed an oven mitt and held the kettle, moving to the sink. Carefully, making sure that not a single drop escaped, I filled water up to the brim. I moved back slowly to the stove, placed the kettle back, and turned the stove dial on 'high'. Smiling triumphantly, I returned the oven mitt to the rack and closed the window. I have to admit, I was mighty proud of my work.

But before I left, I had to make sure that this actually did what I wanted it to do. No use coming up with a genius plan and then have it not work. I moved towards the door again, checking on Russia one more time before I planned my escape. Turning back, one hand on the doorknob, I saw the water bubble gently. Then, a small bit spilled out, landing on the fire with a soft _hissss_. I smiled again. Perfect.

And with that, I turned and walked out of the room, closing the door. Picking a small cellphone out of my pocket, I typed out on the keypad, _Russia is down. Commence stage two_. I pressed the 'send' button and pocketed the cell phone, walking back towards the general direction of the window I first came in through. Russia's boss and his other government officials should be assassinated around now. I stretched my arms above my head, sighing with happiness. Wasn't this a nice way to start the day? Much better than a cup of coffee.

…Now if only I can find that study again…

~*~-~*~

"Thank you for your patronage," the clerk said respectfully, bowing. China only grunted, still in a bad mood from the morning. He violently snatched up the plastic bag and stormed out of the small shop.

China didn't _really_ want to be mad at Russia. After all, the Asian country already knew that Russia wasn't himself in the mornings. But despite appearances, China held grudges that were started. And just like Russia was more passive in the mornings, China was more irritable. (Japan, Korea, Taiwan, and Hong Kong found that out the hard way.) So since the Asian quickly realized that the sick feeling in his stomach after storming out of Russia's house was only getting worse the more time went by, he decided to go back.

However, that didn't stop him from dragging his feet, help a few dozen old people, chase after a newspaper just to recycle it, play one game of hopscotch with a few kids, and adopt a small dog, ironically naming it Kitty.

By the time China found himself standing in front of Russia's house, the sun was already at its peak, glaring down at China for taking so long. "Well, it wasn't my fault~aru!" China shouted up at the sun. The sun seemed to roll its eyes. "Don't do that~aru!" Kitty yipped happily, reaching up to lick her owner in the face, as if she was saying, 'Don't talk to inanimate objects!'

"Mommy, who is that man talking to?" a small child asked his mom, looking up at China with slight confusion.

"No one, sweetie, let's get home," the mom said hastily, ushering her child back across the street, eager to get her son as far away from the crazy man as possible. China, thankfully, didn't notice this particular scene, and instead walked cautiously though the door, just in case the Russian decided to jump out and scare him out of his skin.

No one. Huh. China frowned, half of relief and half of worry. Usually after they fought, Russia would be setting up a sort of funhouse for China just to get some sort of revenge. "Hello~aru?" he asked, tentatively closing the door after him. The sound seemed to resound through the house, making China's unease rise. He dropped Kitty, and the small white puppy immediately disappeared—probably running headlong into trouble.

"Russia, where are you~aru?" he called into the still air, starting up the stairs with the grocery bag in his right hand, his left hand trailing gently on the banister. "Don't tell me you went and fell asleep somewhere weird again~aru." Still no reply.

_He must really be asleep~aru_, China thought, walking down one of the many dark hallways. Well, only half the day was gone. He had the other half to search for Russia—besides, this house could only be so big, right? But first things first—he'd have to make a trip to the kitchen. After all, he did buy milk.

Walking from one silent corridor to another, China completely missed the small, glinting emerald green sequin on the hardwood floor. But it wouldn't have mattered, since he soon stepped into the kitchen, throwing open the door by turning the door handle with his foot.

And sure enough, Russia was still asleep with his head in his arms, sprawled out on the table. China huffed angrily, shutting the door, opening the fridge and putting the milk in along with a few other things he bought. Then, opening a cupboard and pulling out a large, wide bowl, walked over to the sink and filled it up with water.

"Russia, final warning~aru. Wake up or you're going to get drenched~aru," China warned, holding the large basin over Russia's head. Russia didn't move. "Ivan, I'm serious~aru. Get up!"

…One minuet.

"Ivan."

Two minuets.

"_Ivan Braginsky_."

Three minuets.

"…"

Four minuets-

"Oh forget this!" China sighed in his own language, upending the water all over Russia's 'sleeping' figure.

…

…

"You can wake up now~aru," China grunted, pulling up a chair next to Russia. "Seriously, are you trying to trick me~aru? It's not funny~aru. You should get up before you get a cold~aru!"

…

"Look, are you mad~aru? I'm sorry about this morning~aru. But you should get up now~aru. Really."

…

"_Dorogoy_, this isn't funny anymore~aru," China sighed, gently shaking Russia's shoulder. Okay, maybe the man was seriously tired. But still, he had to move (and change into dry clothes after that little water episode…but China still refused to believe that it was his fault) and get to bed if he wanted to go to sleep.

Russia's head lolled slightly. China frowned. "Ivan, get up~aru," China said, shaking Russia's shoulder again, this time a little more violently.

_Hisss…_

Huh? China looked around the room, just now hearing that sound. What was it? "Ivan~aru, what did you do?" China asked, his eyes still darting all over the room. He looked down at the unresponsive nation for a moment before sighing. "Okay, did you kill someone again~aru?"

…

China's mind flashed briefly to Switzerland's death, but he quickly crushed the notion. Of course, Ivan wasn't dead. He was just being his usual childish self—the one that enjoyed seeing China freak out almost as much as he enjoyed kissing him. And besides, China wasn't really sure that anything could kill Ivan.

China got up, slight panic rising in his stomach. Okay, this really wasn't funny anymore. This time, Ivan had gone too far. What had he done? China looked around the room again, pivoting on the spot. The house suddenly seemed to be too quiet. Yao could even hear his pulse racing wildly, and that was never a good sign. The room started spinning, and he suddenly felt slightly lightheaded from turning around so many times. Maybe Ivan had just-

The stove.

_The stove_.

"No!" China cried. The stove. The pot of water was still on the stove, and by looks of it, it had boiled over. And seemed to have put out the fire in the process. China ran over, but he had already stayed in the room for too long. The harmful gases that were released had already started to take affect, considering the fact that they were so concentrated in this small, closed off space. Yao collapsed, coughing, on the ground, suddenly feeling horribly weakened.

Oh God. So after Russia had been in this room for so long, he should already be…_No_, China told himself determinedly. _I refuse to believe that he's…he's…_ China felt his muscles straining to keep him up. _The…the window…the door…GOD, WHY DID I SHUT IT~ARU?!_

China grabbed onto the counter. At least he hadn't been in the room for that long. Tripping and stumbling over to the window, his fingers fumbled with the clasp. A satisfying _click_ later, the window swung open. China stuck his head out the window for a moment, breathing large, deep gulps of air before turning back to the room.

Yao crawled (or at least he crawled better than he had before…) over to the stove and pulled his torso up, turning the burner off. The hissing sound immediately stopped, leaving the pounding in his ears the only sound China heard. Attempting to stand up, falling, and then getting up again, he threw open the door. Finally, the gas was starting to flee in large amounts. China hesitantly took a deep breath.

And _then_ remembered Russia.

"Ivan," China gasped. He immediately ran over to the larger man, fell, and crawled the rest of the way, cradling the blond head in his hands. _Okay, at least he was breathing~aru…wait, how the hell can he still breath in a place like this~aru? Was he supernatural in some way~aru…? Oh wait, he was a nation~aru, never mind._ Yao used a free hand to slap himself. It seemed like he couldn't think straight in tough situations.

China gently pressed two fingers to the side of Ivan's neck. _Thank goddess he still has a pulse~aru…oh wait, he's breathing, so he would have a pulse~aru…God I need to go back to being myself~aru…_ China closed his eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself at least to the point where he could think straight. Hyperventilation didn't suit him well in such cases.

Help.

He had to get help. But he didn't want to leave Russia. But if he didn't leave, then how would he get help? China squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled. _God_, what was _wrong_ with him? If only there was someone else in the house…someone else that could help him…

Kitty.

Okay, he _was_ losing it if he thought a dog could help in any way. But at this point, his selfishness really didn't allow for any lapses. He felt like if he didn't keep his fingers on Ivan's pulse, that it just might fade away, considering how fragile and irregular it was. "Kitty~aru," China tried calling out. That weak, trembling voice wasn't his, was it? Clearing his throat, he tried calling out again. "Kitty~aru! Kitty, come!"

It seemed less than two seconds had passed since he called the dog, when the cheerful little ball of white fur came bounding into the room, yipping and barking with happiness, her claws scrabbling for purchase on the smooth floor. She sat down obediently, cocking her head at China's queer position. She gave a quiet yap of confusion.

"Good girl~aru," China said, smiling slightly. "Now Kitty, can you get me the phone~aru?" China pointed at the small white object on the countertop. Kitty followed China's fingers for a moment, and then lost interest and looked back up at China, panting with her tongue lolling out.

Sigh. "Kitty, can you go get the phone, _please_~aru?"

Pant. Pant. Yip!

China picked up a chopstick on the table and threw it at the telephone. Kitty barked and lunged for it, sending both items sprawling across the floor. She sniffed the phone receiver first, then the chopstick. Finally, grabbing the chopstick firmly in her mouth, she returned to China, wagging her tail.

China sighed again.

"Kitty~aru, please go get the phone~aru." China helped this time by pointing at the phone. Kitty dropped the chopstick at China's feet, went over to sniff at the receiver, and then padded back to China, smiling a little doggie grin. China gave a quiet groan. Okay, maybe he should have gotten it himself.

Kitty's tongue went back in her mouth and she whimpered when she saw China tiredly closing his eyes. Yelping slightly, she jumped onto the table and licked his face, as if asking, 'What's wrong, what's wrong?'

"Ah…Kitty-chan…can you get some help~aru?" It seemed like not all of the gas dissipated, for China suddenly felt very, _very_ tired.

And though Kitty had no clue what Yao just said, she understood the fact that he wasn't feeling very well, either mentally or physically. So barking wildly, she ran out of the kitchen and into the hallways, yipping as she went. Down one flight of stairs and then another, until she was finally out the door and on the sidewalk.

She whimpered slightly, her paws kneading the ground, confused as to where she should go. To where there were people, obviously, but Kitty was very new to this area. She knew nothing of anything around here. Deciding to wing it, she started off in a wild run towards the nearby woods.

Luck must have been at her side, because she suddenly saw someone. Admittedly, that someone didn't look like they'd be much of help, but at this point Kitty had no other options. She lunged forward, her teeth snagging on the corner of the man's pants.

"Ahhh~! Help! Someone! A wild dog is attacking me!" the man started crying immediately, a small curl of gravity-defying hair seeming to have a horrified face for a moment. Kitty blinked at the curl, and when she next looked, the face was no longer there. "You!" the man called, causing Kitty to look up. "What do you want from me?! Food?! I don't have any food!"

Kitty whimpered as pitifully as she could through the mouthful of fabric. The man stopped panicking for a moment, and looked down at her with confusion. "Wait, is something wrong? Why didn't you eat me?"

Okay, Kitty _really_ didn't like this person.

Begging pitifully, she lowered herself until her belly was to the ground, looking up at the man while whimpering. When the man finally looked like he calmed down enough to trust her, she barked, jumping up and starting to tug the man towards the mansion. And on cue, the man started yelling again. "AAAH! No! Don't rip it! Someone help! Help!"

'Oh shut your trap,' Kitty growled, still tugging on the man's pants. Finally the two cleared the trees, revealing the large, intimidating building. Kitty yipped quietly, and then dove forward with more ferocity than before. 'Come on! Master is in trouble and you have to help him!'

"Oh…OH SHIT! That's Ivan's mansion! No way in hell am I going in Ivan's mansion! Turn around! Turn around! I don't want to die! I'M TOO HANDSOME TO DIE!" Kitty rolled her eyes, now practically dragging the man through the front doors. "Someone! Aniki! Anyone! HELP! I don't want to be one with Russia! Help!"

From up in the kitchen, China's consciousness started wavering. He felt even dizzier than before, and his head felt like it was pounding. But every single time he was going to close his eyes, he forced them open again and continued to feel Ivan's heartbeat, making sure he was alive…because he couldn't…couldn't die…

"Aniki! Help!"

Now _that_ was a wake up call.

China felt himself opening his eyelids groggily again, the familiar voice paired with a furious growling that was probably Kitty. "K-Korea~aru? K-Korea…I'm here~aru…"

Korea didn't hear China's weakened voice, but Kitty sure did. And since it seemed like China knew this person, Kitty dragged Korea harder than ever, throwing all of her weight forward. The small, jagged rip that started forming in Korea's pants only grew. 'Hurry up, you useless piece of flesh!'

"AAAAH! It's gonna kill me! It's gonna kill me!"

'I'm not going to kill you if you come with me!' But it seemed like Korea did not understand a dog's language, because he interpreted all that as a ferocious growl. And that caused him to freak out even more. However, just when he was about to yell back at that small white dog, he thought he heard something. And following Kitty for a while, he allowed his ears to strain. Something about that voice had seemed awfully-

"K-Korea…?"

_This_ time Korea heard. "Aniki!" he called, alarmed. At once, he started running towards the kitchen. This time it was _Kitty_ that was being towed. She hung on for dear life, her claws sinking into Korea's leg. "_Fucking _dog, stop that!"

'Slow down, fleshling!' Kitty snarled back, her claws loosening her grip nonetheless. And considering Korea had no clue where he was going, Kitty jumped off and started running towards the kitchen, yipping for Korea to follow. And for once, he actually listened to, in his opinion, the mental dog. 'Turn here, turn here!'

"Aniki! Hold on! What the hell happened to him?" Korea asked Kitty, momentarily forgetting that it was a dog and couldn't speak. And Kitty, though knowing nothing of what the fleshling was saying, could feel that he wanted to know what was going on. She gave a very humane shrug.

'This way, this way!'

"Aniki!" Korea finally called, running into the upstairs kitchen to see China, eyes half-lidded, with Russia lying motionless in his lap. The elder nation looked up at Korea with those tired eyes and smiled as best as he could.

"Hello, Korea~aru. Glad to see that you could make it~aru."

And then China promptly passed out.

~*~-~*~

_Ringringringringringring…_

Germany tried to pointedly ignore the phone.

_Ringringringringringring…_

He closed his eyes. Perhaps that would help.

_Ringringringringringring…_

No…it was as loud as ever. Germany checked the caller ID, his will already wavering. But after looking at the small name printed on the screen, he _really_ didn't want to pick up. _Act natural…pretend like nothing is happening…_, Germany told himself, closing his eyes and completely ignoring the small twitch on his right eyebrow.

_Ringringringringringring…_

Okay, he couldn't do this anymore. Rolling his chair forward, he reached out his hand, hesitated, drew it back for a second, then lunged for the receiver when the ringing stopped. A beep. _Oh great…the answering machine_, Germany inwardly groaned. _What does Italy have to say that's this important…?_

Germany sighed, placing the receiver back down and waited for the message. Sure enough, two seconds later, Feliciano's voice filled the room. '_Hey, Doitsu, why didn't you pick up~? I wasn't going to talk about pasta and pizza, if that's what you were wondering about. Well, anyway, Japan told me to tell you something. He said that the DNA testings were done and the hair is fake~! Someone set up America!_'

* * *

**...T^T RUSSSIA-CHAAAAN~!**

**Okay, you guys want me to explain the trick? The killer (AKA: Green. We call them by their mask colors. If you recall, Switzerland's killer was White, because he/she had a white mask on.) filled up a teapot full of water and put it on the gas stove, then turning it on high. When the water boils over, it would spill out and put out the fire. When the gas for the fire is burned, it is harmless, but when the flame dies out, it suddenly becomes leathal. Therefore when the flame is put out, poisonous gases are released from the gas stove. Got it? ^.^**

**...Wow. That was confusing.**

**Anywayz, ALERT! We now have a poll on our profile that you guys _have_ to visit. We want to see your opinion on who the White Killer is. So go check it out and let us know if we're being too obvious. XD**

**Please read and review and make a visit to the poll! n.n**

**_Ciaosies!_**

**Lucky**


	5. The Red Ripper

Hello again, Angel here with Chapter 5! Lucky and I hope you enjoy.

**As a reminder:** This story is modern day AU. All bosses are fictional characters and although true historical events will be mentioned, most of the story comes from Lucky and Angel's imagination.

Now for the shout outs! Super special thank you to:

**Penumbra9, Verocat, xYukii, Alex, hurleysuki, Holly Lawliet, pmpatg, KaruKyan, AnimeDutchess, Compleatly Random Disorder, Winter's Light, Miss Chelle, RingoNeko 201, WOKgeotobi, mankinfan, greenpanic6, silver windflame, Kathy R. Edgeworth, and EmoLollipop **

Thank you all for your awesome reviews and really intelligent theories.

**Disclaimer: **Neither Lucky nor Angel own Hetalia. If Angel owned Hetalia, Matthew would be the bad ass twin. If Lucky owned, Alfred and Arthur would get married and live happily ever after.

* * *

Germany, heaving a sigh of relief that his friend was seemingly innocent, hurried to Japan's house after the phone call and was instantly attacked by Italy upon arrival. The smaller nation was still wearing his detective getup, much to Germany's embarrassment, and insisted on getting a hug before they discussed anything. Japan stood patiently at the door as Germany irritably returned the Italian's embrace.

Ignoring the constantly enthusiastic country's chatter, Germany caught the expression of deep concentration on Japan's face. He was trying to put something together, and that somehow made Germany all the more nervous.

"So is it true?" Germany questioned, unable to hide the hope in his voice when he was finally able to get inside without Italy hanging around his neck. Japan didn't answer for a moment as he led his guests to his sitting room, where they each made themselves comfortable on the floor.

"Japan, you should get couches," Italy suggested. Japan ignored the comment, his face still deep in thought. Germany only waited, although Italy was quickly becoming bored and had started poking him in the cheek.

"Poke, poke, poke," he chanted in a sing-song voice. Germany (although after spending so much time with Italy, his patience evolved into that of a pastor saint's) was quickly becoming irritated. Japan didn't seem to notice either of them, however. His hands every so often clenched and unclenched against his knees. When the jabbing pokes became too much, Germany cleared his throat, causing Japan to startle.

"Oh, gomen, Germany-sama, I was just thinking of today's events." Japan bowed deeply in respect. Germany still found it amusing that Japan insisted on using the honorific 'sama' even all these years after World War II.

"So, America is innocent?" he asked, gently grabbing Italy's hand and putting it back in his lap.

"Not quite!" Italy exclaimed enthusiastically.

"I thought you said someone set him up?" Germany reminded, feeling a knot twist in his stomach.

"At first glance it might seem that way," Japan said, letting his finger touch his lip. "But that bruise is just too convenient."

"What do you mean?" Germany questioned, definitely not liking where this was going.

"The hair that we found was actually a horse hair, and very old dating back somewhere around the 1800's," Italy explained. Germany blinked a few times, failing to see what the connection was. So the killer left a horse hair, big deal. He was aware that he wasn't that great with all this detective stuff, but he wasn't able spot the connection to America.

"I don't understand," Germany said. "How does that make America guilty?"

"It doesn't make him guilty, just keeps him as a suspect," Italy corrected.

"Let me explain," Japan began. "Horse hair was commonly used in the 1800's in both American and English colonel times along with pig. It was used to make hairbrushes, toothbrushes, decorations, and, of course, toys." After he finished, both he and Italy looked at Germany expectantly, obviously waiting for him to draw a conclusion. Unfortunately, Germany was still lost and was starting to get a bit frustrated that he was out of the loop.

"I still don't get your point." Japan merely dipped his head and continued.

"Although the bruise is considered circumstantial evidence, Italy-kun and I have a theory. Switzerland hit America, leaving a mark. Already knowing he'd be suspected because of it, America left the hair knowing someone would discover it and DNA test it. When the test came back as a horse hair, he'd be 'off the hook' as the saying goes in English."

"I think you're giving America too much credit though," Germany argued. "I mean, he's my friend, but he's not the fastest thinker on his feet."

"Exactly," Japan agreed. "Everyone knows DNA testing can show the difference between human and animal, so if you wanted to fake innocence, why not frame someone else? I understand he has a twin."

"Are you kidding?" Germany asked incredulously. "America would never endanger Canada, or any other nation for that matter!"

"Right again!" Italy declared. Germany blinked a few times, now more lost then ever.

"I'm confused," he muttered.

"Think about it," Italy supplied. "America sees himself as a hero, so he'd consider it dishonorable to frame another nation. So he left the horse hair thinking it would be enough to halt the investigation."

"But where does all the 1800's stuff you just mentioned fit in?" Germany questioned, scratching the back of his head.

"Toys," Italy answered simply.

"Toys?" Germany repeated.

"When America-kun was England-san's colony, England-san gave America-kun a lot of toys when he was little," Japan explained. "I know because he told me he keeps everything in a shed by his house."

"So it'd be easy for him to get a horse hair," Germany concluded, finally catching on.

"There you go, Germany!" Italy complimented. "You're finally getting it!"

"But why attack Switzerland?" Germany wondered. "You said yourself he sees himself as a hero, and that he views framing someone else as dishonorable. Why then attack a country who is perfectly neutral?"

"That's what we need to find out," Japan replied. "We need to see if America-kun and Switzerland-san had any disagreements over the past few years, or if their bosses were hostile towards each other. Also, we need to see if Austria and Hungary offered him something to do the dirty work."

"Wait, now you're bringing Austria and Hungary into this?" Germany exclaimed in disbelief. "Austria's not like that. He and Hungary are trying to rebuild the empire, but I know for a fact that they wouldn't kill innocent people. They'd talk and try to convince, not rampage and destroy."

"Germany," Italy said, letting his hand rest on the other's shoulder. "This is just a theory. We know all nations involved so far are you're friends, but we need to keep an open mind." Germany let out a breath, knowing Italy was right.

"So, how do you plan to obtain this?" he questioned after a moment.

"I'm going to spy," Japan answered simply.

"Like James Bond!" Italy yelled. "Or Kim Possible, or Julia Child!" Germany immediately became uncomfortable. To him 'spying' was just another word for 'stalking'. Japan noticed his troubled expression and gave him a reassuring smile.

"Germany-sama, America-kun is my friend too, and I hope by doing this we can prove him to be innocent."

"Yeah," Italy agreed. "We don't want America to be guilty." Germany looked at his two friends, knowing that they were right. America had a lot of countries who hated him, but none of them were in this room.

"Alright then, when do you plan to start?"

"We-" Japan was interrupted as the phone rang loudly from his office next door. "Gomenasai again, please excuse me." Japan bowed politely, then stood up to retrieve the phone. Germany watched the edge of his kimono disappear as the thin paper door slid shut behind him.

"Japan's house is so pretty," Italy remarked after several long minutes. "Especially in the winter, right Germany?"

"It is," he agreed. Italy curled his arm around the taller nation's and let his head rest against Germany's shoulder.

"Don't worry, Ludwig, this will all be over soon." Although it was meant to be comforting, Germany caught the double meaning. It was either the end for the killer or for them. Germany looked down at Italy and felt his stomach sink.

Even though Italy was annoying and useless, he was still a good friend that cared deeply for him. Germany didn't know what he'd do if something ever happened to him. He remembered Switzerland's body, all the blood and the blank look on his face. Germany doubted he'd be able to see Italy like that and unconsciously wrapped a protective arm around the smaller nation's shoulders.

A few moments later, Japan stumbled back into the room and fell to his knees, obviously distraught.

"Nihon!" Italy cried, running to Japan's side and letting the Asian nation lean against him. Germany followed suit, noticing Japan's face had turned a sickly pale and his eyes were wide with shock.

"Japan, what happened?" he demanded. Japan stared at him, blinked, then swallowed.

"Korea called," he replied roughly.

"What did he say?" Italy asked. Japan shivered, but gathered himself enough to sit on his own. However, Italy kept a hand on his shoulder. Composing his shock back into his normal stoic face, Japan answered in a strong, yet grave voice,

"China and Russia were attacked."

* * *

The doorbell rang shrilly as England patiently tried to sip his tea, pinky raised as he gripped the handle between four fingers. His thick brows were furrowed in irritation as the chimes played an out-of-tune version of "_God Save the Queen." _Seriously, he needed to get the music changed or at least have it re tuned, because at the moment, the screeching melody was practically a disgrace to Her Royal Majesty.

"Oh, for the love of the Queen," England snarled, slamming his teacup down on his saucer with a _click _and standing abruptly from his easy chair.

Adjusting his tie, he stalked to the front door, scowling all the way. It better not be France. England had enough to deal with without the whining git clinging to him and trying to cop a feel.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" he shouted at his front door. He had hoped that by ignoring the repetitious shrieking of _"God Save the Queen" _whoever was at the door might go away, but of course, he wasn't that lucky. England was a firm believer of curses and knew he was doomed to deal with persistent idiots until the end of the world. Grabbing the doorknob, he violently yanked it open.

"What do you want?!"

"U-Um, we just brought you some food," a meek voice answered. England opened his eyes and was surprised to find both Canada and America standing on his porch.

"Yeah, _Canada_ was worried about you," America muttered, holding out a white paper bag.

"Oh really?" England snapped, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, we got some burgers and fries from America's place and we wanted to eat with you," Canada explained, his arms tightening around his small polar bear.

"Who are you?" it asked curiously, beady eyes staring up at the shy nation.

"Canada, Kumajirou, Canada," America reminded, giving the bear an affectionate pat on the head. England was bitterly reminded that even when he was little, America had always been fond of animals.

He sighed as he observed the twins: Canada's slightly nervous expression and America's apathetic pout. It was rare to see them together other than at World Meetings, but they did care for each other, England knew that much. Also judging by this sudden 'heartwarming' display, cared about him also. Well, good. He had raised them both, saving Canada from a life of molesting people courtesy of France. He felt some of his annoyance fade. With all this nation-killer talk going around, it was no wonder the boys were worried for him.

"Are you going to let us in or just stand there glaring at us?" America blatantly asked. "Because we have better things to do than hold staring contests." The annoyance returned tenfold, but before England was able to shout out a retort and slam the door in their faces, Canada spoke up.

"Alfred, can you stop being immature for one moment?"

"I-Immature?" America stuttered, his half-lidded eyes widening.

"In case you didn't hear, someone is killing nations practically overnight and now's not the time to hold pitiful grudges over something that happened forever ago! Something you_ won_ by the way!" Canada reminded, his eyes narrowing at his brother.

"Hey, I had every right!" America yelled.

"I didn't say you didn't. I'm just saying put it aside for now! As much as you'd like to deny it, I know you'd be just as upset as France and I if anything happened to England!"

America gave a huff, and muttered something inaudible.

"No, you," Canada snipped. The twins looked away from each other, identical frowns on their faces.

"Oh, stop it already!" England exhaled, opening the door wider to let the brothers in. "Just come in and we'll eat." Canada gave a smile and propped Kumajirou in one arm, while grabbing his brother's hand in the other and practically towing him inside.

Once the three entered the kitchen, they all sat down to the table and prepared the food. As much as England claimed to hate everything American, even he had a weak spot for cheeseburgers. The way America sucked them down made him slightly sick to his stomach, but once in awhile as a guilty pleasure he often treated himself to one.

"Hey England, do you have any gravy?" Canada asked, setting Kumajirou down on the floor. The little white bear stared up at him for a moment, before beginning to sniff around the kitchen.

"Ew, Matt!" America gagged, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "Gravy on fries is _so _disgusting!"

"You haven't even tried it!" Canada replied, although he was smiling cheerfully.

"I still know it's disgusting."

"How do you know without tasting?"

"Because I'm awesome and can tell by the look of food if it's disgusting or not! You'll understand when you reach my age, little brother." America sighed dramatically, giving Canada a condescending pat on the head.

"You mean two minutes from now?" Canada remarked.

"I mean mental age."

"Well, I'll need a time machine for that, skip back what? Three centuries? What do you think England?"

At this point, England had retrieved the small boat of gravy from the fridge and placed it on the table with a smirk.

"And you give it to him!" America shouted in disbelief. Canada proceeded to dump a liberal amount of it all over his fries. "Ugh, Matthew, you know that grosses me out!" America stuck his tongue out and gagged again. Canada popped one of the gravy-covered fries in his mouth and swallowed, before picking up another one and holding it out to his brother.

"Come on, it's good, I promise!" Canada laughed. "Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Did you _really _just ask that?" America sighed, rubbing his temples. "No, I'll stick to normal food, thank you very much!"

"I thought heroes were supposed to be _brave,_" Canada teased, biting down on another fry. America shot him a dirty look, before grabbing the fry from Canada's fingers and biting down on it. He chewed for a moment, eyes closed tightly.

"Still gross," he reported, after painfully swallowing and putting the half-eaten fry back on Canada's plate.

"Hey, don't put that back on my plate!" England gave a small chuckle. It was like watching a sitcom. He remembered when they both were little boys, how amusing it was to watch them then as it was now. He really did miss those days when the twins were just beginning to grow into nations. He missed when America came running to him when he returned from long absences with that smile. It was the smile that made England feel like the most important person in the world, a smile that told him how much America loved him. He hadn't seen that smile in decades.

"Hey, you haven't touched your burger," America noted.

"I was too busy watching you make an idiot out of yourself," England retorted.

"Jerk," America muttered.

"Ah, Alfred and I put something special in there," Canada stated hastily before another fight broke out, his smile widening. "I think you'll like it!"

"Oh really? Is it poison?" England joked, picking up the burger and biting into it.

"It was going to be, but Canada was all like, 'Oh no, Alfred, we have to be a _family _and love each other and bla, bla, bla I'm gay'." America mocked, using a high-pitched tone while making a rather rude, cross-eyed expression.

"Shut up Alfred, you're such an obnoxious pig!" Canada snapped.

"Aw, that really hurt," America retorted sarcastically. "At least _I'm_ not the one that carries around a bear he's had since he was still crapping in his diapers!"

England's eyes suddenly widened as he felt something stab into his tongue. Pain caused his eyes to water as he covered his mouth, and began to spit up the burger.

"Oh, I think he found it," Canada observed, his annoyed expression melting away into a dark grin.

"I agree," America said, his mouth twisting into the same shadowy smile. England continued to cough, and removed his hand when all the food was spat up.

"What the hell did you…?" he trailed off, as he saw a glint of something metal poking out of the chewed burger.

It was a needle.

He felt his heart race as the tiny sewing device glared up at him from his palm. His green eyes were wide as his head shot up to stare incredulously at the North American twins, who were still smiling, their identical blue eyes dull and lifeless. "W-Why?" was all he could utter.

Then suddenly, they began to laugh, closing their eyes and holding each other as if they had pulled some hilarious prank. England wasn't laughing however. This wasn't funny. He could have been seriously hurt if he had actually swallowed the needle instead of just having a minor bleeding tongue.

They continued to laugh, eyes watering as their shoulder's shook. England felt himself begin to panic. What was going on? Why were they acting like this? Terrified, England threw the food down on the table, the needle in plain sight.

"WHY DID YOU DO THIS?" he bellowed, his eyes huge and fear pulsing through him. The twins just continued to laugh innocently, as if this were some silly inside joke only they shared. England's breath came out in harsh pants as he began to back away, wanting nothing more than to run. This wasn't happening. "Why…?" he whispered weakly.

"Oh England, we're only playing," Canada assured, standing from his chair walking around the table to stand before the now trembling nation. England refused to back away. He wasn't afraid of Canada, who was practically invisible. Just like he wasn't afraid of America, who was just an idiot.

"Playing?" he asked, eyes still wide and horrified. "I-I could have been injured! M-My tongue is already bleeding! What's wrong with you two?" Canada's smile widened and his blue eyes darkened further from behind his glasses. There were no pupils, only dull blackness mixed in with the usual blue. _That's not possible! _England thought frantically.

"You're bleeding?" Canada asked innocently as he reached behind his back and withdrew a jagged meat cleaver. "Obviously not enough, right Alfred?" England gasped as he felt a pair of arms wrap around his own and pin him against the taller body behind him.

"Not enough at all," he heard America say into his ear. How had America gotten behind him so quickly? England hadn't seen him move from his place by the table.

"Stop this foolishness!" England demanded, his voice shrill. His heart was pounding in his ears and he felt his chest tighten with anxiety. "Stop it right now! This isn't funny! This is sick!"

"We're not being funny," America murmured into his ear. "We're being dead serious." England's green eyes swiveled around in their sockets, spotting his reflection in the window above the sink. America's face was identical to his younger brother; those same eyes narrowed and that same mouth twisted into a sadistic grin. England tried to struggle, but knew with a growing sense of panic that it was useless. America had always been stronger than him.

"Please," England whimpered, wriggling in America's iron grip. "Don't do this."

"You've been bad, Arthur," Canada scolded, bringing the edge of the cleaver to England's throat. "You've said things you shouldn't have, so we're here to punish you." Canada's blank eyes were nearly black as they bore into England's own.

"Very bad things," America agreed. England felt his stomach twist into a knot as he felt the other nation's warm breath on the back of his neck.

"Stop it," England whispered pleadingly, feeling the backs of his eyes burn with frightened tears. "Stop this. It's not funny. It's wrong and sick."

"Oh, Arthur," Canada cooed. "The needle was the joke, now it's all business." With that same smiling face, Canada lifted the cleaver above his head.

"NO!" England shrieked. "NO! STOP! NO!" He watched Canada's eyes widen in excitement as he brought the blade down.

England's eyes snapped open as another shrill sound pierced the air. Canada and America melted away and England shot up out of bed screaming, body drenched in a cold sweat. He took a moment to cradle his head and control his breathing. It had all been a dream, just a really bad dream. He needed to stop watching Japan's horror anime before going to bed, especially if it revolved around psychotic children with cleavers and needles.

After a second of gathering his scattered thoughts, he realized the noise that woke him was the ringing of the telephone. Shakily getting out of bed, he made his way to his office, heart painfully beating against his ribcage. England, too shaken to be angry at the time of the call, gripped the receiver and brought it to his ear.

"H-Hello?" he stuttered, taking another deep breath to soothe himself.

"Oh, Arthur it's terrible!" France cried from the other end, his voice quivering and scared.

"What? What's happened? Are you hurt?" England demanded, fingers tightening around the receiver. The panic surged again, and he gripped the phone with both hands, listening to France's shallow breathing.

"Oh, non, I'm not hurt," he assured. Immediately, England's panic ceased, leaving irritation to take its place.

"Do you," England began calmly, "have any IDEA WHAT TIME IT IS!?"

"I do but-"

"Then what in God's name possessed you to call me-" England looked over his shoulder at the clock hanging over the door, "at three a.m.?"

"Russia was attacked!" France exclaimed.

"What's going on?" a smaller voice asked from the door to England's office. England shot a glare over his shoulder at the sight of Sealand in pajamas, rubbing one eye as he gave a yawn.

"Sealand, go back to bed!" England ordered, then turning his attention back to France, asked urgently, "Are you sure? How do you know? When did it happen?"

"I can't go back to sleep!" Sealand whined. "Your girly screaming woke me up!"

"Shh!" England shushed, holding up one finger to quiet his younger brother. "France?" England felt his fingers involuntarily clench tighter around the receiver. All he heard from the other end was labored breathing and quiet whispers in French. "Francis, are you there?"

"J'ai peur. Mon dieu," France murmured to himself.

"Arthur!" Sealand squealed, his expression turning into a deep frown.

"Shh!" England shushed again. "Go back to bed, Sealand! France, what is going on? What happened to Russia?"

"I-I'm in Moscow, and it's gone!" England had to check himself as his hand involuntarily loosened on the phone. Clutching it tighter, he felt his heart speed up again as America and Canada's sadistic faces flickered before his eyes. The wide-eyed excitement on younger twin's face as he brought the cleaver down was all England could think about.

"What do you mean it's gone?" he asked weakly. "What are you doing there?"

"My boss wanted me to discuss our trade act with him, but the city…" France trailed off for a moment, his breath harsh. "England, it's just ash! There's nothing here! Everyone's dead! I'm…I'm scared! I didn't know who to call. You were the first one on my mind, please come."

"I'll be right there," England assured, grabbing the nearest coat without a thought of changing out of his pajamas. Then, he asked the one question he didn't want to, but knew he must. "Have you seen Russia?"

"No, he's in Khabarovsk this time of year since it's so close to China's boarder, but I was just passing through to possibly get something to eat and rest, but it's gone. I'm literally standing in a wasteland! Arthur, the killer is going after Russia and possibly China!"

"I'm coming, alright? Just stay calm and try not to pee yourself again," England suggested. France was obviously shaken, for he didn't even acknowledge the insult.

"How were they able to do this?" France asked himself, his voice quivering. "Moscow. It's one of the most powerful cities in the world. How could they…? I remember Germany's invasion, but he didn't…Paris wasn't…Oh, please hurry," France whispered. "It's so quiet."

"I'll see you in a few hours," England stated. "Just stay there, I'll call you once I catch a plane." With that, he hung up the phone, and yanked open the drawer to his desk and retrieved his cell phone.

"Where are you going?" Sealand asked crankily, annoyed his older brother had not only woken him with his shrill screams, but had blown him off without telling him what was so important that he had to leave this very moment.

"Moscow," England answered shortly, rummaging around in a nearby closet and withdrawing a scarf, hands slightly trembling.

"In _Russia?" _Sealand asked in disbelief.

"No, the Moscow in Italy," England barked irritably. "Of course in Russia." Sealand scowled and stuck his tongue out.

"Hey, you woke me up with all your screaming. What? Did you have another dream about your wiener getting-"

"Peter Kirkland, go back to bed!" England interrupted, wrapping the scarf around his neck. His youngest brother was like an annoying little dog, you had to repeat yourself at least fifty times before there was any slim hope he'd listen. Even then, getting Sealand to do as he was told was like watching Italy gag in disgust at the sight of pasta. In other words, very unlikely.

"Can I come?"

"No."

"Why not? I'm a country too you know!" Sealand pouted, crossing his arms.

"Yes, and part of being a country is minding your own business." England didn't have time for this. France was standing out in the middle of a destroyed Moscow alone with nation-killers on the loose. As much as France got on his nerves and pissed him off to no end, England knew he'd never want anything bad to happen to him, especially after seeing what they did to Switzerland.

"America doesn't mind his own business, and he's a world power!"

"That's because your brother is an idiot and now half the world hates him," England said, stuffing his hands into the nearest pair of gloves. "Go to bed. I'll see you in a few days."

Before Sealand could protest any further, England practically ran out the door, gripping his cell phone so hard he feared he might break it. He had to get there quickly. France was alone and undoubtedly frightened.

In his head he heard America and Canada laughing. He tried to shove the dream away, but it clung to his consciousness like some deranged magnet. It was just something about it was bothering him greatly. America had a bruise on the side of his head and Canada had turned incredibly protective and defensive over him when Germany, Japan, and Italy suggested America might be the killer.

Were they capable? He refused to believe that two of his former colonies were involved in something like this, but England knew they were both strong enough. As much as Canada was ignored, he wasn't America's twin for nothing. They both shared immense physical strength, and if a nation were to be double-teamed by them unaware…no.

He was getting ahead of himself. Canada was generally peaceful, and although America was rambunctious, it wasn't in his nature to kill innocents without at least declaring war or even just warning.

France.

He had to keep his mind on France. It had just been a stupid nightmare, that was all.

But in his mind, the twins were still laughing.

* * *

Now, who could the killers be? We're interested to hear what you guys think. O_o Who knows, the next installment might be closer than you think....


	6. The Lambeth Poisoner

Ha ha, Angel bets you weren't expecting the next update so soon, but you see, you all gave such awesome reviews, that she and Lucky waved their magic wands and the chapter came out. Be warned though, that this chapter is extremely long so grab a snack.

Extra Sexy People:

**Compleately Random Disorder, hurleysuki**,** mankinfan, Verocat, RingoNeko 201, greenpanic6, Soy Soy Joo, EmoLollipop, silver windflame, Sweet May, SheWhoRunsWithScissors, xYuki, KaruKan, luvOj, Holly Lawliet, Miss Chelle, AnimeDutchess, Mad Half Hour, Winter's Light, and pmpatg**

**Disclaimer: **Hetalia anime and manga are owned by Studio Dean and Hidekaz Himaruya and we make no profit from this story. Besides, if Angel and Lucky owned Hetalia, England would be in a war with himself to love either France or America. So much drama....

* * *

It was never meant to be an alliance.

China remembered when his boss first suggested he make 'friends' with Russia. He had been horrified at the concept, getting onto his knees and begging the man for mercy. It wasn't that he was afraid of Russia, it was that he was _terrified _of Russia.

To an outsider, this fear seemed unwarranted. The two had been on relatively good terms for a long time, as China did his best to be a civil neighbor. They also traded frequently and had similar governments. Russia had long since embraced democracy (much to America's utter delight) but even now China didn't sense much of a difference between them. Russia's democracy was limited compared to the other countries, but a democracy nonetheless. China hadn't minded. Whatever worked for Russia, worked for Russia. As long as they remained good neighbors and bought things from each other, all was well.

Then overpopulation in 1979 forced China's boss at the time, Deng Xiaoping, to do some drastic things. He imposed the one child policy with full intent to enforce it. China didn't want to think about that though. He himself hadn't agreed to how said policy was enforced, but knew it had been necessary.

Both Xiaoping and his current boss assured him it was for the best and only temporary. China had to grin and bear it… or just not think about it. It was a fact that made him unhappy, so he simply denied it. Everything was easier that way.

China had taken all this in good stride, until the subject of Russia came up. China was to 'make nice' with him. Perhaps by being friendly with Russia, he would open his boarders to more Chinese immigration, thus easing the booming population crises. America, England, and Canada had taken in a lot of his people, many of whom were young girls abandoned by their parents, but it wasn't enough.

Plus, there were rumors circulating of riots due to alleged forced abortions on urban couples who bore a second child. China admitted on his way to Russia's house that this _sounded _like a good idea, but it worried him also.

America was often upset over how many of his people took advantage of incoming immigrants, the main reason being they often didn't speak English. The last thing China wanted was for his people to be taken advantage of.

Then again…no, he didn't want to think about that either. His boss was right and it was all for the best.

Wrapped in at least three heavy coats as he trudged through the snow, China thought perhaps if Russia actually did agree to this, he'd have all his people learn Russian and the Cyrillic Alphabet. That way language barriers wouldn't be an issue. Still, what were the chances? Slim, he prayed.

Russia and America were just now getting along and were even considering, dare China think it? Having a 'friendship'? As much as America was an idiot, he was a powerful idiot, and an idiot with power was the most dangerous kind. After Russia had adopted democracy, America had been extremely protective, but at the same time suspicious of him, and although he and China were on relatively good terms, China was still communist.

If he and Russia got too close, America might freak out thinking China was trying to drag Russia back to the 'dark side' or that Russia was trying to drag himself back to the 'dark side'. Personally, China didn't see the issue. Communism had treated him fairly well so far. He also failed to see how Russia's business was America's business, but knew sticking his nose into places it didn't belong was America's specialty. China again had to remind himself that the chances of Russia actually agreeing to let more Chinese into his land were miniscule, and relaxed beneath his layers of coats and scarves.

Then most awful thing happened.

Russia agreed without so much as a second thought.

China had fainted right there in the office.

When he woke up he was staring up at four faces; three concerned, one extremely cheerful.

"What did you do to him?" Estonia asked as China gave a groan.

"He was so excited to be one with Russia, that he fainted!" Russia exclaimed, his eyes closing in delight. "Oh, Lithuania, hurry up and make a room for him!" China groaned again and blinked heavily a few times. Lithuania's green eyes tensed as he gave China one last regretful look and hurried off.

"Wai…Wha?" China murmured, sitting up gingerly and rubbing the back of his head.

"You offered an alliance!" Russia happily supplied. "I agree, and I'll let more of your people come so they too can be one with Russia!"

"H-Hold on~aru!" China stuttered, only to be cut across by the ecstatic nation.

"But now that you stated your conditions, I of course have mine."

"B-But-"

"You have to live here with me, but you can travel back to your house if your boss needs you or if you have domestic problems. Basically, you can come and go as you please. Also, I want you to lower tariffs on my exports, and once your people come over they can't leave."

"Wait, this wasn't an alliance ~ aru!" China explained. "I just wanted you to let more of my people come here for work~aru!"

"And I am," Russia explained. "It's just that when they come they have to stay. No stealing jobs from good Russian workers then running back to you with my money. All money made goes back into Russian economy and China's population problem is solved!"

"Well, it will help~aru," China uttered weakly. The smallest of the two remaining nations beside Russia was trembling and on the verge of breaking down into sobs. "Uh, what's wrong with him~aru?" Russia turned around briefly before returning his attention to China.

"Latvia is excited too! He always shakes when he's happy and he always shakes because he's always happy because he's one with Russia!" Russia turned to Latvia again. "Right Latvia?"

The tiny brown haired nation only gave a few gurgling vocalizations, before tumbling to the side and hitting the floor where he began twitching.

"LATVIA!" Estonia shrieked, running over to where the other country lay.

"Is he alright ~ aru?" China questioned, suddenly frightened. This wasn't a good idea at all.

Russia waved a hand as if to brush the matter away.

"Of course! It happens all the time."

"Oh…"

"Now run back to your boss with my conditions, and if he doesn't agree, he and my boss can talk." At this, China found hope. His boss wouldn't agree to this silliness, right? Overpopulation wasn't _that_ bad was it? Besides, China viewed himself as a delicate flower. He was 4000 years old after all, and Russia was known to be rough, particularly towards Lithuania. China remembered hearing of how Poland confronted Russia about the scars he left on Lithuania's back. Well, there was still hope for China's old back yet.

Then the second most terrible thing happened.

His boss agreed to Russia's terms.

At this point China wanted to simply curl into himself and die a slow painful death. It wasn't an alliance, just a deal about immigrants. Sadly, that held no merit to either his boss or Russia and in the end, to Russia's house he moved.

Still, he had his own condition that had nothing to do with immigration, but with his personal safety. His boss had given him the okay and China was determined to see it through. Just because he lived with Russia didn't mean he was going to be the new Lithuania. No way in hell. He'd rather let Korea sodemise him.

"What is that?" Russia asked as China slammed the heavy stack of paper on top of his desk.

"That," China began, a look of pure determination on his face, "is the Delicate Flower Treaty~aru."

Russia gave him a look that clearly begged the question, "How do you dress yourself in the morning?"

"It protects _me_," China pointed to himself, "from _you_~aru." He directed his pointer finger back at Russia. The large nation merely tilted his head curiously.

"Why would you ever need something like that?" Russia asked, his large violet eyes brimming with fake innocence.

"Because I know how you treat nations under you, and I'm not going to have it happen to me~aru," China explained, doing his best to remain firm. It was no secret he was terrified of Russia, but unlike with Japan and practically every other nation in the world, he wasn't going to let himself be pushed around. He'd been bullied into this 'alliance' by both his boss and by Russia, but he wasn't going to be bullied throughout the duration of it.

"So, why is it called 'Delicate Flower'?" Russia questioned, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Because I, although strong, am also delicate~aru," China replied, his voice suddenly wispy as romantic images of flowers danced through his mind. "I have the look of a flower, delicateness, and I'm old~aru. I have a young face, but time has made my back ache like a stem of a wilting plant~aru. "

"Right…so what does it say?" Russia asked, taking the rather large packet and flipping through the pages.

"That while I live here, you cannot hurt me, hit me, punch me, kick me, maim me, whip me, bite me, touch things you're not supposed to~aru," China paused to make this point perfectly clear in case he was dealing with a closet Korea. "Or do anything that will cause me any damage or pain, emotional or physical~aru." China finished with a curt nod, his arms folded across his chest.

"Uh, what happens if I violate it?"

"Then, this 'alliance' will be void and I'll return to my house and raise tariffs on your exports~aru. However, you have exactly three chances before the alliance is void, but after each time you hurt me, tariffs on your exports will be raised indefinitely~aru." Russia shrugged before signing the treaty without so much as blinking.

"Here you go," he said, handing China back the hefty packet.

"Wait, you agreed~aru? Just like that~aru?"

"Of course!" Russia smiled, before standing from his chair and giving China a friendly pat on the back. The smaller Asian nation thought his kneecaps would break under the pressure. "It sounds perfectly fair to me, and besides," Russia's face instantly got darker, and China felt his hands tighten on the Delicate Flower Treaty, "I have Lithuania for that. Kol kol kol kol." Without so much as a second glance, the Russian left the room, leaving a slightly nerve-wracked China to tremble and sweat.

"Help…me…a-aru," he whimpered to no one in particular.

Lithuania had given him a comfortable room and thankfully left the decorating up to him. China hadn't brought much, just a small bag of clothes, some food, and a few keepsakes. Once Lithuania had kindly shown him around and led him to his private quarters, he gave a friendly (and reassuring) smile.

"Well, I hope you find your stay here enjoyable," Lithuania offered.

"Thanks~aru," China replied. Although he didn't know Lithuania that well, he found he enjoyed the other nation's company. Something about his kindly demeanor was soothing and comforting. Thinking about Russia hurting him made China strangely sad. Perhaps it was because he was so kind that Russia enjoyed beating him. China knew first hand how kindness made you an easy target for bullies.

"If you need anything just let me know."

_Yeah? How about an escape route~aru, _China thought bitterly. Of course, he didn't say this, just gave a smile and a nod as Lithuania turned and made his way down the hall.

The room was nice and China gave it a few personal touches to make it seem more like home. On the dresser beside his bed he placed a picture of his family. He, Korea, Japan, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Vietnam were standing together, but only he and Korea were smiling. It was a nice picture though, even if China had a strong urge to grab a marker and draw smiles on his siblings' faces.

The days passed, and China found himself relaxing more and more. America surprisingly came by to wish him well, before promptly dragging Russia along with him to the nearest bar. Apparently, their idea of bonding over past rocky relations was to get wasted together. At least _that _particular crises had been averted. He really didn't want to deal with America's anticommunist tirade on top of all the new Chinese immigrants coming through.

Estonia, Lithuania, and Latvia were kind enough, and he enjoyed talking with them. He even taught Latvia the art of meditation to ease his constantly worried mind. Estonia often joined, while Lithuania merely watched from the sidelines, green eyes filled with affection for his brothers.

Russia wasn't that bad either really. The Delicate Flower Treaty obviously was to thank for most of this, but China often found himself slightly amused by the larger nation's childlike behavior. Parts of Russia were relatively endearing, and China often cracked one eye open during meditation with Estonia and Latvia to find him standing shyly behind a wall, watching them.

But this equilibrium of hospitality quickly changed when Russia returned home one night drunk. China knew he had a taste for vodka and was the king of holding his liquor. Usually when he went out with America, he'd come home only slightly buzzed, the other nation on his back completely passed out, or talking nonsense. Either way, the intoxicated American ended up on Russia's couch for the night until either England or Canada came to retrieve him the next morning.

That night was different, however. The moment everything changed happened like a horror movie. Russia came back after going out alone, only this time, China felt the danger rolling off the large Russian in waves. Lithuania seemed to know what he was doing, but fear was etched deep in his eyes.

"China, please take Estonia and Latvia to your room," he said in his usual calm voice, although China was able to hear the strain beneath it. Russia merely stood in the doorway, his cheeks flushed, and purple eyes hooded.

China had instantly obeyed, ushering the younger nations away up the stairs, but at the same time worried for Lithuania. After shushing Latvia's crying and directing Estonia to comfort him, China hurried back to make sure he was okay. When he got there, the first thing China saw was blood.

Lithuania was on the floor, barely conscious, and Russia was standing over him, the faucet he often carried around raised above his head. China couldn't bear to watch.

He'd been like that before, crumpled on the ground and bleeding. The Rape of Nanjing had left him unable to move for weeks. The betrayal and hurt he felt as he watched Japan slaughter his people all came back to him. Was Lithuania feeling the same?

No, this happened too much for betrayal to take root. Lithuania knew it was coming, thus had China take his brothers away so they didn't have to watch. It made the situation a hundred times more painful, because it meant Lithuania had endured this for years. The realization made China angry. He remembered being bullied, he knew how it felt and it made him sick. So he did something stupid. He got in the way.

"What the hell are you doing~aru!" he screamed, running in front of Lithuania's crumpled body and shielding him. "You should be ashamed of yourself~aru! Lithuania is nothing but good to you~aru!"

"China…" a weak voice murmured behind him. The Chinese felt a hand grip the leg of his pants, and looked down to find Lithuania trying to stand. Blood was trickling down from a gash on his forehead, while one eye was already swollen shut. "Don't."

"No," China answered, turning around to glare into Russia's hazy eyes. "I won't let you hurt him anymore ~ aru! You want to beat him, you'll have to beat me too~aru! The Delicate Flower Treaty is still in effect~aru!"

"Toris was bad," Russia said simply. "Toris needs to be punished. You should stay out of this."

"No, because right now, you're harming me psychologically~aru!" China insisted. "This is the one warning I'll give you before I call my boss and tell him to raise those tariffs~aru."

Russia swayed on his feet for a moment and his eyes narrowed into slits. From behind him, China heard Lithuania give a wet cough. He wanted desperately to turn around and help him, but he dare not take his eyes off the considerably larger nation.

"This is your last chance to stay out of this," Russia growled, and China smelled the bitter stench of vodka on his breath. At this point, the Asian nation's heart was beating out of his chest, but he refused to move. As much as he really did want to back away, Lithuania had been so welcoming and kind. China knew he didn't deserve this.

"No~aru!" China yelled defiantly, kneeling down and wrapping his arms around the wounded nation. He kept his back to Russia, and pulled Lithuania's face into his chest despite the other nation's protests.

"China, don't do this," Lithuania pleaded softly. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"It's okay~aru," China reassured gently. "I have the Delicate Flower Treaty~aru." Just after he said this, he made the mistake of looking over his shoulder. China gave a relatively shrill scream as he noticed the raised pipe. "Delicate flower, delicate flower, delicate flower!" he chanted as the air whistled around the descending pipe. It hit the floor with a resounding _WHACK _just centimeters shy of the two huddled nations.

Time seemed to freeze and China felt his fingers dig into Lithuania's uniform. Then, without a word, Russia turned away from them, dragging the pipe behind him. It made a nasty hissing noise against the floor as Russia stumbled away into his office. China held his breath, only releasing it when he heard the slamming of the door. When it was clear Russia wasn't going to return with perhaps a bigger pipe, China began to giggle wildly, still clutching Lithuania to his chest.

"Ha ha, I-I'm alive~aru."

"China," Lithuania said, voice muffled. "You're hurting me." China released him immediately.

"S-Sorry~aru," he stuttered. Lithuania sat up gingerly, doing his best to clean himself off. He slouched forward slightly and didn't look at China, a curtain of brown hair hiding his battered face.

"He won't let that go," Lithuania said gravely. China only gulped, knowing it was true.

The next day, sure enough, Russia called China to his office via Lithuania. China noticed the nation's head was bandaged heavily, but a splotch of red still soaked through the gauze. Lithuania didn't say anything as he led China to Russia's office and silently opened the door for him, keeping his eyes directed at his feet. China found he wanted to say something, but his brain was currently paralyzed with terror, thus rendering his mouth useless.

Maybe jumping in front of Lithuania wasn't the best idea. Thinking about it now, a lot of things that popped into China's head lately hadn't been the best idea, but jumping between a drunk Russia and his living punching bag had to be one of the worst. China wondered what possessed him to do it. He wasn't one to get into another nation's business, but he couldn't let Russia hurt Lithuania. Dear God, look what spending time with America was doing to him.

When he entered, Russia was sitting behind his desk, the expression on his face grim and unsmiling. Unlike when China first came, Russia's eyes were dead, while anger oozed from his every pore. China nervously walked to the center of the room and began to anxiously twiddle his fingers.

"You got in the way," Russia stated simply.

"I…" Ugh, his voice sounded so weak. Clearing his throat, he spoke again. "I did~aru," he finished lamely.

"It wasn't any of your concern. What happens between Toris and I is private." At this, China felt the anger from last night returning. Fear and anger mixed into one was not a pleasant sensation and made him slightly dizzy.

"Why did you hit him~aru?"

"Again, that's none of your concern." Russia reminded China of a tiger about to lunge, every muscle stiff and wound up. "Why did you come between us?"

"You were traumatizing me~aru," China said. "The treaty clearly says no emotional pain either." Russia stood from his chair abruptly, and China was distraught to find the deadly pipe poised ready.

"You knew how I handled unruly nations," Russia said, taking slow, deliberate steps towards the frightened, yet irate Chinese. China's brown eyes scanned the room and found a few swords hanging on the wall nearby. Luckily, Russia didn't catch him staring and continued on, "You knew this, yet you still wanted this alliance."

"It was an agreement to lessen restrictions on immigration~aru," China corrected, his voice oddly quiet. "And it was my boss's idea~aru." Russia stopped a few feet away from him, and began tapping the pipe on the floor unknowingly in time with China's heart.

"Regardless, you knew," Russia countered, his voice disturbingly soft.

_Tap, tap, tap, _went the pipe.

"Your boss also knew, but he let you live here anyway." China felt his palms sweat as Russia began to circle him, the incessant tapping driving him crazy. He suddenly felt as if he were a juicy steak and Russia a hungry dog. "Was he so desperate to have more land open to him perhaps because," Russia paused as he circled around once before stopping in front of China, a cruel smirk playing across his lips, "he needed more room to bury the babies?"

China snapped.

He lunged at where the swords hung, practically ripped one from the wall, and unsheathed it before rushing at the other nation, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"You fucking bastard~aru!" He brought the sword down, but Russia blocked it with the pipe, his eyes widened with sick delight.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" Russia asked, that evil and cruel smile alighting his face. "Tell me, where do all the little girls go, China?"

"Shut up~aru!" China snarled. He swung the sword again, but Russia effortlessly blocked the attack, his violet eyes wide with glee.

"I saw the 2007 reports," Russia laughed. "You had a few riots didn't you? When your population control officials started for_-"_

"SHUT UP!" China screamed, his own eyes bulging with anger. His breathing was labored and his entire body trembled with rage. He attacked again, his vision completely red as every ounce of fear was converted into fury.

They fought for what seemed like hours, the pipe and the sword slamming against each other until both nations stepped way from their opponent, inches from Russia's desk.

Russia was panting lightly, but the smile was still there. China's shoulders heaved with the effort he put forth, but he kept his eyes locked with those evil purple slits. Russia gave a small chuckle after a few moments, tilting his head to the side.

"How about we make this interesting?" Russia proposed. "I win, your 'Delicate Flower' treaty is void and I deport all your people. You win, and you don't have to live here anymore, but your people can come and go as they please."

China only glared at him. Russia had just insulted him and his people, but as much as China wanted to decapitate the other nation at the moment, he held his ground. He wasn't going to play Russia's sick games just to provide entertainment. So he stood rigid, waiting.

After what seemed like hours (although China guessed it had only been a few minutes) Russia's smile faded, and his brows furrowed into a look of both disgust and anger.

"Hey, you've overstayed your welcome in my office," he growled. "If you won't make this fun, then I will!"

Russia suddenly swung his pipe across the desk, sending a whole array of papers fluttering in the air, blocking the larger country from sight. China's eyes widened in horror, and he took a few steps backwards as he realized the Russian had effectively blinded him.

Suddenly, through a crack in the descending wall of forms and documents, Russia's face appeared. He rushed at China with impressive speed through the opening, swinging the pipe down and clipping the smaller nation's wrists. Pain instantly caused China to drop the sword, and he gave a yelp when Russia's pipe hit him again on the shoulder, effectively knocking him to the floor.

China was stunned, and his flesh throbbed from the impact. A bruise was inevitable. He heard Russia's footsteps and grit his teeth as a large hand wrapped around his neck, turning him over on his back. China stared up at the other nation, who was now straddling him, the pipe raised above his head.

China could see his reflection in the metal that was soon going to seriously hurt him. His disheveled black hair and wide, terrified eyes looked back at him through the distorted reflection.

The rage that possessed him earlier was gone, replaced once again by fear. Russia's eyes were empty as he glared down at China. His scarf had risen above his mouth, leaving his eyes to tell everything. Something about it made Russia seem even more terrifying, but China didn't squirm or try to wriggle away. He kept his hands by his sides, his heart pounding away, each beat counting the seconds closer to his demise.

"I guess this means I've won," Russia stated, his voice strangely quiet. It wasn't the threatening sort of quiet either, more solemn, almost…remorseful.

"Not until you bring that pipe down," China answered, closing his eyes and awaiting the inevitable cave-in of his skull. China let his hands curl into fists, and he turned his head slightly to the side, hoping to be spared the pain of a broken nose.

"I-" a weak voice murmured somewhere above him. "I…don't want to." China opened his eyes and was shocked to find not only had Russia's eyes softened, but he was crying. Thin trails were trickling down his cheeks, staining his scarf. "I don't want to," he repeated.

"You don't~aru?" China asked in disbelief. Russia's body shook a little as he let out a tiny sob, his face crumpling into an expression of pure misery.

"When did I start this?" he asked. China knew it was a rhetorical question and didn't open his mouth, only watched in fascination. "W-Why did I start hurting my friends? I remember being happy because Big Sis was with me everyday, b-but I did something bad!" Russia cried. "I-I did bad things to her and now she doesn't come to see me anymore! I-It's my fault she had to leave." His hand loosened from the raised pipe, until he let it go completely. It clattered to the floor harmlessly and Russia brought his hand down to wipe his tears.

"Ukraine?" China wondered. Russia gave a confirming nod.

"I was happy when I was with her, but I had to go and live in the cold to be my own nation. Before she left, she gave me my scarf and told me to be happy and good."

"Are you crying because of what she might think~aru?" China asked gently. Russia removed his hand from the smaller nation's neck.

"She'd be mad," he sniffled.

"Why~aru?"

"Because I'm not being good and I'm not happy. I…" Russia trailed off and looked away, biting the knuckle of one finger nervously. "I starved her. I starved her because of my boss. Millions of her people died because of me. That's why I smile so much because if I can't be good, I can be happy. I don't want Big Sis to hate me, but I'm lying. I'm never happy and it makes me angry sometimes that I have to pretend."

"So you hit Lithuania~aru," China finished, realization dawning on him. "You act like this because you miss your sister ~ aru." He suddenly felt compassion for the other nation. He really was just a big child acting out.

China knew how it felt to miss a sibling, but he also knew Ukraine had raised Russia-- babied him even. China had been on the parenting end of such a relationship, but unlike Ukraine, he had never wanted to let his brothers and sisters become nations of their own. How did it feel to the little nation when the parent nation just let go?

"I was so lonely when she left," Russia cried. "A-And then the Mongols came!" At this point, Russia had covered his face with his hands, and China tentatively sat up, sudden understanding softening his gaze. Russia was just lonely and he missed his big sister. The façade of happiness was only to make her proud of him, while the darker part was his frustration at feeling like he was forbidden to express how he really felt.

"Hey," China murmured gently. Russia looked up, and his teary eyes widened in shock as China carefully wrapped his arms around him. "It's okay~aru." He half expected Russia to push him away, but instead felt him return the embrace so gently, China knew he was trying to make up for his previous display of aggression. "She's still here, you know ~ aru? You can still talk to her and tell her how you feel~aru."

"I'm sorry!" Russia sobbed, burying his face into China's chest. China remembered comforting Hong Kong and Taiwan when they were both little, and old habits came back as he gently ran his fingers through the silver-blond hair. "I did horrible things to Lithuania and I'm sorry."

"He's still here too~aru," China supplied. "You can apologize to him and you can apologize to your sister~aru. Nobody left you alone, they just took a few steps back because they didn't understand~aru."

Russia pulled back a little after he calmed himself to wipe his eyes again.

"I know you feel bad now about Lithuania, but you should explain to him that you only hit him because you're upset, and that's no excuse~aru."

"That," Russia sniffled, "and because it's fun!" He broke down again, leaning all his body weight against China, who's face paled at the declaration.

"Okay," China laughed nervously, patting Russia on the back a few times. "Okay, _that's _probably not the best thing to say~aru. Stick with 'I'm sorry' and you'll do fine~aru."

Russia pulled away again after a period of time, giving China a shaky smile. China noticed that his cheeks were slightly flushed, and he looked to the side shyly. His smile faded and he began to twiddle his thumbs, suddenly looking very small.

"Um, are you still going to live here?" China blinked a few times, but gave Russia a reassuring pat on the head.

"Of course~aru! I'm still under the protection of the Delicate Flower Treaty~aru."

"You won't need it though," Russia smiled again. "I promise. You…You helped me see some things. I've been having a lot of thoughts lately, and you helped me put them in perspective, I guess." He bashfully rubbed the back of his head, before looking around his office. "Oh, I made a mess, my boss is going to be so mad at me!"

"I'll help you clean~aru," China offered happily. In an instant, he was pulled into a back-breaking hug, Russia smiling with joy.

"Oh, thank you!"

"Delicate flower, delicate flower, delicate flower, delicate flower!" China gasped, feeling as if he were about to be snapped in half.

"_Is he okay?"_

"_I don't know! Aniki? Aniki, can you hear me?"_

"S-Sorry!" Russia stammered, letting him go. China took a few deep breaths and popped his back.

"_What happened?"_

"_There was a gas leak or something. I dragged him out, but Russia is still inside!"_

"It's fine ~ aru." China smiled, suddenly feeling his cheeks grow warm, noticing how close Russia's face was to his own. Russia really was just a kid at heart, but at the same time, there was something so old about him. Perhaps it had been the Mongol Invasion or other aspects of his bloody history. He remembered how Russia refused to speak to anyone for weeks after the Romanovs were executed.

"_I'm going in then!"_

"_Wait random voice, don't go!"_

"_Yeah, you'll only be killed if you inhale the gas!"_

China's eyes slid shut as Russia gently kissed him. At least, it was _supposed_ to be a gentle kiss from what China remembered, but this one was strange. It was almost as if Russia were breathing into him. What the…?

"_Is he breathing?" _

Then the third worst thing happened.

China opened his eyes to find Korea sprawled over his body giving him mouth to mouth. China let out a squeal of disgust from beneath the other nation, and wasted no time in curling his hand into a fist, then uppercutting Korea in the chin. He went flying as China sat up and immediately began spitting onto the ground, wiping his mouth repeatedly.

"What the hell is wrong with you~aru!?" he hollered, which caused him to cough harshly into his sleeve.

"There was a gas leak," another voice explained as China took a few deep breaths to clear his lungs. He glanced to the right and found a worried pair of violet eyes looking him over. Despite the darkness, they were bright and piercing beneath the snowy white curtain of hair that rippled in the soft breeze. "Korea dragged you out of the house, but you were unconscious."

"Yeah, a crazy dog brought me here!" Korea sobbed, tenderly rubbing the spot where China punched him. "I thought it was going to eat me!"

"Iceland~aru?" China questioned, ignoring Korea's input.

"Yes, Russia wanted me to come by today but…_ah..achoo_!" The other nation paused to sneeze, then took out a handkerchief from the front pocket of his uniform and wiped his nose. A small pink tongue licked at his cheek and China realized that he was holding Kitty, who whimpered with worry. China was aware of Iceland's perpetual colds, and waited patiently for him to finish before asking,

"Where's Ivan?" Iceland gave him a confused look, Korea rolling on the ground behind him while cradling his chin in agony.

"Aniki, why did you hit me?" Iceland was momentarily distracted by the display, but China persisted.

"Iceland, Russia! Where is Russia?" Iceland blinked, before coughing a few times into his fist, sniffling afterward. Kitty gave a yelp and licked him again.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, giving the little dog a pat on the head. "Russia is still inside, but someone went in to get him, so you relax okay?"

"Who?" China demanded.

"Some disembodied voice," Korea answered, tears falling down his face. His hands remained cupped around his bruised chin. "Seriously though, that hurt." China ignored him and turned to Iceland, who was currently blowing his runny nose.

"Where are Denmark and Norway?" he found himself asking despite his worry for Russia.

"Oh, they're at Finland and Sweden's house, why do you ask?" Iceland gave another round of coughs. Kitty whimpered again as she wriggled in his arms to try and lick his face.

"No reason really~aru," China replied, truly unsure. "Usually you three are together, and now's not the best time for nations to be wandering around alone as you've probably noticed ~ aru." Iceland stared at him for a moment, obviously just as confused by China's line of questioning.

"I didn't want to trouble them. Besides, Russia said it'd be quick."

"Oh," China said simply, losing interest and turning to look at the large mansion. What happened? Had it been an accident? China suddenly remembered their fight, how he walked out leaving the kettle of tea on the stove. He thought for sure that Russia would wake up before it boiled over, but something was wrong with him. China knew he hadn't been sleeping. Ivan was a light sleeper. He hadn't moved when China had poured water all over him, didn't even stir or make a noise.

"The hero has arrived!" a voice declared triumphantly. China glanced over his shoulder briefly to find America standing behind him, hands on his hips with his chest thrust out.

"We got here as soon as we heard," Lithuania panted, Poland next to him.

"Like, we got a ride from America and it was totally awesome!" Poland exclaimed. "But then we had to run here from the airport because apparently it's like, illegal for planes to land on someone's front yard or whatever." Lithuania looked around nervously, no doubt searching for his brothers.

"Where are Latvia and Estonia?" he asked. China wracked his memory for a moment.

"Uh, they went out~aru," China recalled. "I don't remember specifics, but they're safe, I'm sure~aru."

"We're here!" another voice called out. It was Estonia, holding Latvia's hand as he ran to the group. Lithuania released a sigh of relief, and hurried to meet his brothers, wrapping them both in a warm embrace.

"Eduard, Raivis, I'm so glad you're safe."

At the sight of Latvia, Kitty gave a bark, startling the young nation who abruptly hid behind Lithuania.

"I think she likes you," Iceland stated, putting Kitty on the ground where she immediately scampered towards Latvia.

"Demon," Korea muttered. The small nation shakily held out a hand to the puppy, who gave it a lick. Latvia yelped at the sight of the tongue and abruptly pulled his hand away.

"Aw, it's like, so totally cute!" Poland gushed, scratching the puppy behind the ears.

"She does like you, Raivis." Lithuania gave his brother a reassuring pat on the head.

China wasn't interested in Kitty, however. Not once had he taken his eyes off the house, which now sent a wave of numbness over him just looking at it. Russia was still inside along with whoever decided to go in there after him. China couldn't handle the idea that Russia…his Russia…his lonely little Ivan could be…

The scenario itself nearly made China lose it completely, so he shut out the outside world, watching only the front door.

"How long since that person went in after Ivan~aru?" China questioned, his voice coming out monotone. As much as they fought, Ivan was his everything-- his heart. After that day in the office, the day Ivan finally admitted he was wrong, Yao had loved him. Ivan returned that love when Yao understood him without having it spelled out for him. He didn't reject Yao's devotion like Japan, but embraced it. Now, he might…_die _and Yao might never be able to see him weep, smile or laugh again.

"Aw, someone already went in?" America groaned. China didn't respond, not that America cared. "I'm the hero." He crossed his arms and pouted in disappointment.

"Yeah, but it's been awhile," Iceland said, his tone obviously worried. "I'd say nearly ten or twenty minutes."

"Well, who was it?" America asked, although his tone was grudging.

"Like I said, some disembodied voice," Korea said.

"No, no," Iceland corrected. "It was some guy. I'm not sure if he was a nation, but I can't really place his face."

"Okay, so a disembodied voice is trying to steal my spotlight?" America questioned, his face darkening in strange determination. "No way! I'm better than any voice! I am the true hero."

"Oh, I remember something about him!" Korea exclaimed suddenly. "He was carrying this!" From the folds of his coat, he pulled out a small white polar bear. Around its neck a sign dangled, proudly declaring, _Made in Korea! _The bear looked up at America with black eyes and blinked slowly.

"Who are you?" it demanded. America's face paled and his angry expression changed into one of horror.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "No, no, no, no, no." China paid no attention, but the others instantly sensed the shift in emotion.

"Like, what's wrong?" Poland asked nervously.

"How long ago did you say he went in!?" America shouted, whipping around to glare at a startled Iceland who, already on his knees, crouched lower and clung to China's arm.

"T-Ten or twenty minutes," he stammered, violet eyes wide with fright. "Um, was he important?"

"It was Canada!" America yelled.

"Who?" Korea questioned, letting the polar bear sit on his lap.

"My brother!" America's blue eyes widened as he stared intently at the house. "Matthew, you idiot! You stupid fucking idiot!" He instantly attempted to bolt into the mansion, but was stopped by Lithuania and Poland, who clung desperately to both his arms.

"America, don't!" Lithuania cried. "You don't know the mansion very well, you'll get lost!"

"Like, totally!" Poland agreed. "You'll only end up wandering around until you pass out from the gas!"

"Let me go!" America demanded, struggling against the other nations' restraints.

"Alfred, please! You're my friend I don't want to see you die!" Lithuania yelled back. "I'm sure your brother is fine!"

"Matthew!" America hollered. "I'm the hero! I have to save my little brother!"

"Like, you're being totally stupid and all your struggling is wrinkling my clothes!" Poland complained. "You won't be anything but dead if you go in there!" America squirmed, doing his best to shake off his captors, but was ultimately unsuccessful, eventually hanging his head and crumpling to his knees. "Like, we totally did it!" Poland laughed, oblivious to the other nation's devastation. "We saved a life."

"Alfred," Lithuania said tenderly, kneeling down and wrapping his arms around the larger nation. "He's okay. Have faith in him."

"Toris," America whispered to the ground. "If he dies…I'll find a way to bring him back and kill him myself."

Yao still watched the house for any movement. He didn't sense the presence of anyone around him. He didn't hear Alfred's screams or Im Yong Soo's inquiry about what he was staring at. Nothing registered. All he thought about was Ivan and how one encounter changed everything between them. Just the thought of sleeping alone made him want to die.

He tried to think of his people, but the horrible loneliness overcoming him engulfed all responsibility. Ivan clung to him like a security blanket at night and Yao felt the warmth of love in his chest. Just when his younger siblings tore away from him, here came someone who needed him, someone he could shower with all the neglected love in his heart.

"Hey, don't try to get up!" Iceland's voice broke through his haze.

"China, please don't strain yourself, you have to get to a hospital!" Korea's voice added. China blinked, realizing he had gotten to his knees, one arm outstretched towards the house. Both Iceland and Korea had him by the shoulders and were attempting to gently push him back into a sitting position. China let them, lacking the energy or even will power to fight the way America had.

Suddenly, the front door swung open and out came Canada, his shirt front pulled over his mouth and nose, while Russia was slung over his back. At the sight of Ivan's limp body, a new strength flowed into Yao and, disregarding protests from Korea and Iceland, struggled to his feet and hobbled for the approaching nation. The gas must have made him weak, because with every step he felt like he had an anvil on his back.

"Matthew!" America cried, lunging to his feet and sprinting towards his brother. Canada gently placed Russia on the ground, just as he was assaulted by his older twin. America hugged him fiercely and pulled away, keeping his hands on Canada's shoulders as his worried blue eyes scanned for wounds. He was firing off questions at a rapid rate, his face pale and scared. "Are you hurt? Can you see me clearly? What's one plus one? Do you feel lightheaded?" America placed his hand on Canada's forehead. "Do you have a fever? Concussion? Broken bones?"

"Alfred, I'm okay!" Canada reassured, brushing his brother's hands away.

"Are you sure?" America pressed.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine."

"Good," America breathed. Then, his face hardened and he cuffed Canada upside the head. "What were you thinking?"

"Alfred, that hurt!" Canada yelled, rubbing the back of his head. He gave a startled yell as America's hands tightened around his upper arms and began shaking him roughly.

"Don't you ever do that to me again!" America yelled. "You could have been killed! I'm the hero so I know how to do things like that!"

"But…" Canada began meekly, looking down and blushing slightly. "I wanted to be a hero like you." America's eyes widened in surprise for a moment, then his gaze gentled and he pulled his twin into another hug.

"You're so stupid," he murmured softly, sounding both miserable and happy.

"Ivan?" Yao croaked when he finally reached the unresponsive nation. Yao kneeled at Ivan's side and studied him, trying to find the even the smallest sign of life. Ivan's head was tilted slightly to the side, his face ashen. His mouth was open slightly, but his eyes were closed, the dark rings beneath them standing out against the unhealthy white of his skin. The scarf hanging around his neck sagged haphazardly, as if it too had no life.

"Ivan," Yao whispered again as he gently took the nation's face between his much smaller hands and positioned it on his lap. Ivan's cheeks were freezing, and not the usual natural frosty feel, but a clammy dead feel. Ivan's bangs fell across his eyes and Yao brushed them away tenderly. "You have to wake up ~ aru."

"Yao, please," Iceland said, placing a comforting hand on Yao's shoulder. "You have to go to the hospital now. The ambulance is here. They'll take care of Russia." Yao shook his head and buried his face in the crook of the Russian's neck. He placed his hand behind Ivan's head, and his eyes widened in shock. There was an indent in his skull that was swelling dangerously. Yao's fingers brushed over the hard knot, and he felt his throat tighten. Tears began to form in the corners of his eyes and he held Ivan's lifeless body tighter.

This was all his fault. He left Ivan alone so that the killer could easily bludgeon him to death. Because of a stupid argument, Yao let Ivan get attacked.

He remembered every act of procrastination that kept him away. While he was trying to make a point, the killer got Ivan. Guilt clamped around his heart and squeezed. Yao shut his eyes against the fresh tears, cradling Ivan gently and tucking the larger nation's head under his chin.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have left you alone. You were trying to ask me to stay, but I was too stupid to listen ~ aru."

"Aniki," Korea offered gently. "You have to let him go and let his people take care of him. I just called Japan too. He's on his way to the hospital." Yao didn't want to let go, but Korea and Iceland once again had hooked their arms around him and were pulling him away. Weakness overtook him and he allowed himself to be separated from Ivan.

Looking around silently, tears still streaming down his face, he spotted America and Canada standing together, eyes downcast. He also saw Lithuania's worried and saddened expression as he draped both arms comfortingly around his younger siblings' shoulders. Latvia had since warmed up to Kitty and was holding her against his chest, trembling and anxiously toying with the puppy's floppy ear.

Then there was Poland. Yao's eyes instantly sought his face, and found it to be the black sheep of the group. Unlike the others' solemn expressions, his was cold, almost angry. Yao remembered that look from the unofficial meeting not too long ago. The way he looked at Ivan as he walked by Lithuania automatically made Yao suspicious, but now this was just the icing on the cake.

He should have warned Ivan, but didn't. Their conversation had been about Switzerland's murder after all, but why hadn't he mentioned what he saw in Poland? This was all his fault. Ivan had trusted him to take care of him, but Yao failed, just as he had failed with Japan. Just as he failed with all his brothers and sisters.

* * *

Poor angsting China. Hope you enjoyed. Russia's fate will be shown I'm sure next chapter, as Lucky has something unspeakably horrible in store for them, I'm sure. What am I talking about? I know she has something horrible planned.

Okay History Shpeal :D Dun, Dun, Dun

The Rape of Nanjing or also known as the Nanking Massacre, was an attack by the Japanese in the capital of the Republic of China in 1937. Gernerally, the death count is unknown due to lack of records and major differences estimates from different sources.

The One Child Policy is a temporary solution to China's booming population in which urban Han Chinese couples are permitted to only having one child. Female infants are in effect, poorly treated from abortion, neglect, and abandonment. In 2007, there were reports of riots due to alleged forced abortions.


	7. Brownout Strangler

Angel again, with sort of a filler chapter (that I haven't ran by Lucky OTL she'll kill me). There's something big in this though if you can find it. Lucky is away on a trip, so I wanted to give you guys something before I too go on a a trip to my wonderful job. It's not much, but interesting I hope. No plot advancement, because that's Lucky's job, but there is a HUGE clue!

I'll put in the shout outs later, but I'm pressed for time and they're closing in on me

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Hetalia

* * *

Everyone left for the hospital, leaving Canada and America on their own. Canada had been too uncomfortable with the idea of being surrounded by what was no doubt going to be China and Russia's worried siblings, thus stayed behind. America had refused to leave him alone and for good reason.

After taking Kumajirou back from Korea, he and America merely stayed to the side and out of the way. It had been a terrible sight. China seemed so out of it and Russia…Russia didn't even look alive. It had been torture waiting, but he was strong (much as everyone liked to ignore that) and managed not to hurt anyone.

Now they were standing alone on Russia's yard, staring down the street where the ambulance had vanished. Russia, however, wasn't Canada's main concern at the moment. A lot of nations would be after him once they found his government was practically nonexistent, and the nation himself half-dead, but Canada had done his part dragging Russia out of the house. The rest was up to his surviving people and if the alliance with China was going to be put to good use.

Canada tightened his hold on Kumajirou and brought the small bear's head under his chin. It was pregnant silence. He and America had a lot to talk about, and even if they had to do it in this yard after such a crisis, then they definitely would. The personal issue between them now was Canada's top priority.

"You really scared me," America laughed after a moment, ruffling his hair. "Don't go running off into gassy buildings again or you'll give me a heart attack." It was meant to be a joke, a way to end the silence, but as much as Canada wanted to let it go, he refused.

"A-America," he struggled weakly, trying to figure out how he should begin such a sensitive subject. "I need to tell you something." America looked at him expectantly. Okay, he'd gotten his brother's attention, now the trick was keeping it.

He tried to bring it up a few times before, but America had danced around each of his advances like a ballerina covered in grease. As lacking in the mental department as his older brother was, if he didn't want to talk about something, the something in question was usually laid to rot.

"Alright, alright, you're a hero for the day," America sighed, although there was a proud smile gracing his lips.

"That's not what I want to talk about."

"Oh," America's smile faded and his eyes glinted. "What do you want to talk about then?" Canada adjusted his glasses even though there really was no need to. He just wanted to occupy his hands.

"You know exactly what a want to talk about." It came out harsher than he intended. America took a step away from him and Canada turned to face him.

"Not right now, not here," America warned, his eyes narrowing. Canada put Kumajirou on the ground and stood up straight, feeling his own eyes narrow. He was treading on thin ice, but so far he'd been too lenient. America needed a firm hand to guide him, and Canada knew it was time to provide it.

"Then when?" Canada hissed lowly. "You've been skipping around it every time I try to bring it up."

"Because nobody needs to know!" America snapped. "_You're _not even supposed to know!"

"But I do, and it's not fair that I have to keep it secret!" Canada felt his voice rise against his will. From the ground, Kumajirou tilted his head at his owner's unusual tone.

"Well, you do, so I suggest you shut up about it!" America yelled, his voice echoing. Luckily, no one was around, as they had all gone to the hospital.

"How can I shut up about something like this?" Canada questioned. "Alfred, it's wrong!"

"Don't you think I know that?" America asked, his blue eyes wide. "What the fuck do you want me to do?"

"I want you to tell someone!" Canada cried, stepping so he was inches away from his brother's face. "I want you to tell someone so that they can help you stop it!"

"No one can stop it," America said lowly. "No one." Canada threw his hands up in exasperation. America was so thick-skulled that Canada was quickly losing what patience he had.

"You won't even try!"

"Because there's no point!" America shouted, then after hurriedly searching the area for any eavesdroppers, lowered his voice. "I suggest you forget what you saw, because there's nothing you can do and there's nothing anyone else can do."

"So if telling someone won't change anything, then why do I have to keep a secret?" Canada demanded, anger overtaking him.

"Because you have to!" America snarled, his hands tightening into fists at his sides.

"Why, so you can save your pride?" Canada spat.

"Pride has nothing to do with it," America growled. "_Forget it_!" He said this through clenched teeth, eyes blazing with anger. To another nation, this might have been the scariest sight they could possibly imagine, but to Canada, it was a sign of his brother's childish hero complex being threatened.

Suddenly, Canada had enough of this stupidity. America was letting something so horrible happen, and he wasn't even telling anyone. Worse, was he expected Canada to be his usual obedient self and keep his mouth shut. That was all he was good for right? Being the quiet little twin everyone ignored. It was too much. Too insulting. Canada had kissed America's boots for far too long.

Faster then he thought possible, he wrapped his hands around America's neck and shoved him to the ground, straddling his hips and tightening his hold. America's eyes widened in shock, and he began to choke, his own fingers wrapping around Canada's wrists. He kicked a few times, his feet ripping up chucks of grass as he writhed below his brother.

As much as he was the younger twin, Canada's strength matched his brother's. England was sadly reminded of this on a regular basis when they were growing up (via their made up game of 'Bison Toss') and he wasn't bucked off. His eyes had widened and he bared his teeth, squeezing America's windpipe mercilessly.

"You expect me to be the good little brother and just shut my mouth at your command?" Canada asked, his voice dripping with venom. "You've pushed me around all my life, now you expect me to just ignore something like this?"

America made hollow wheezing sounds as he tried to breathe, his eyes watering and his brows slanting upwards in a saddened expression.

"You wanted me to see didn't you?" Canada snarled accusingly. "You couldn't handle it by yourself so you wanted me to see, knowing I'm the invisible one, right?" He jerked America's head upwards once. "Right?"

America's mouth was wide open, and his back arched upwards in his attempts to escape. Canada held fast, the frustration he was feeling trickling into his fingers, causing them to tighten further around his brother's neck.

"You knew I wouldn't tell without your permission you coward!" Canada yelled. America had since, turned his face away from him and closed his eyes, tears trickling down his cheeks. Canada stared down intensely, feeling shock run through him as America's hands fell away from his wrists.

They hit the grass by his head, the sleeves of his jacket riding up and exposing the skin under the thick material. Canada saw what lay beneath, and his anger faded away back into frustration and sadness. America's wrists were bruised and purple. Botches of swollen black and blue glared up at him as they peeked over the edge of the sleeve. They looked freshly inflicted.

"_Sh-Shilah_," America whimpered breathlessly, eyes still closed. Brother. America's old name for him was the Navajo word for 'brother'. The days before England and France flashed before his eyes. The days when he and America spent every waking moment together, holding hands and exploring the different people who used their mother's land. He and America were both born from one nation of many different tribes of people, their forests beginning in one, and ending in the other. They once shared everything, going by many different names originating from many different languages before they were separated.

Canada instantly felt the tears and loosened his grip.

"Shilah," America repeated, coughing lightly afterward and taking in a deep breath. Canada looked down at his brother, horrified at what he had just done. America's hands came up to rub his teary eyes.

Canada was instantly disgusted with himself. What was wrong with him? America was in pain right now, and Canada had just attacked him. The only other nation America felt he was able to turn to nearly strangled him to death, right where anyone could walk by and see them. So what if what Canada had said was true? America was scared and he was hurt, and he didn't want to be thought less of. He didn't want pity or disgust.

"Shilah," America said again, eyes still closed. His body was stiff, as if he expected Canada to begin strangling him again. Canada watched his own tears fall onto America's face. Cupping his older brother's cheek, Canada turned him so that they faced each other. America's eyes tentatively opened and his breath hitched a few times before more tears trickled down his cheeks.

Canada let their foreheads touch, before forcing an arm under America's back and bringing him into an embrace.

"_Wematin," _America's old name escaped his lips. The Algonquin word for brother. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." America trembled for a moment, before he gently pulled away, laying back on the grass. Guilt was etched all over his face and Canada felt his own rise as he looked down at him. America didn't need to feel guilty for Canada walking in on something he wasn't supposed to see.

"W-We're twins, but it's not fair that I did this to you," America sniffled. "I shouldn't…I…" He was far too upset and didn't bother to finish the thought. Canada doubted he knew what he wanted to say anyway. He simply lowered himself and brought America's forehead to his cheek. It was almost as if Canada was trying to shield him, and in a way, he really was. America's fingers twisted in the back of Canada's jacket as he stifled his sobs.

While America tried to gather himself, Canada looked back at Russia's house, his thumb wiping away America's tears. It was moments like this one that made Matthew feel like he was really the older brother.

They were once one nation and he'd keep Alfred's secret no matter what.

* * *

Big enough clue for you? Hope you enjoy and pray that Lucky doesn't kill me. I'm not encroaching on her territory so this is the last installment from me for awhile.


	8. The Yosemite Murderer

**Hey all! This is Lucky, with the next chappie of SLK! This...sort of turned into a filler as well because we didn't have enough room to squeeze in the next scene. And it was horribly rushed, but whatever. -.-;**

**Shout out to these awsome people who are kind enough to review to nutcases like us!**

**AnimeDutchess, luvjOi, greenpanic6_,_ Twilight Rose2, Verocat, KaruKyan, SheWhoRunsWithScissorz, pmpatg , Compleatly Random Dissorder, Holly Lawliet, mankinfan, ninjafox369, Thorro, silver windflame, RingoNeko 201, Miss Chelle, Mad Half Hour, EmoLollipop, HandInTheCookieJar, marmoki, hurleysuki, and koholint! You guys are wonderful people who deserve whichever Hetalia character you want! XD**

**And a little alert. We closed the poll, and it's going to remain closed for three days after I post this chappie. So if you guys haven't seen the results yet, I suggest that you go now before we delete it. And of course, after we close the poll (three days later), we're putting up the next one, so don't miss that either!**

**Disclaimer -- If Angel owned Hetalia, France would get whoever he wanted with no fuss (not that he gets on anyways.) If Lucky owned Hetalia, Kitty would be Latvia's puppy! n.n**

* * *

_Tic…tock…_

"…"

_Tic…tock…_

"………"

_Tic…to-_

Belarus very calmly unsheathed one of the blades kept in her sleeves and ran it through the clock.

"B-Belarus!" Ukraine cried, right on cue, jumping up from her plastic hospital chair by the window. "Don't go around destroying property that belongs to the hospital, you're going to have to pay for it later!" Everyone in the room winced noticeably at the exclamation into the previous awkward silence. Everyone, that is, except for the single person that was lying, motionless, on the hospital bed.

"It was annoying," Belarus said simply, grabbing Kitty, who was lounging her chair, by the ruff of her neck and tossing the small bundle of white right at Latvia, who squealed with surprise and caught the puppy before it became a Kitty-puddle. "I disposed of it." Belarus sat down smoothly, crossing her legs.

Lithuania's brow creased just slightly, and he got up to crouch by the broken clock pieces scattered on the ground, slowly picking up glass shards and cogs. "You could have just started a conversation," the timid nation said quietly, continuing to collect the bits and pieces in his hand. "Then you wouldn't have had to hear it."

Belarus simply stared at Lithuania. "But I wouldn't have gotten to break anything, which would have been no fun." Lithuania winced.

No one had a reply to that particular comment, so everyone resumed submerging themselves in their own thoughts. It wasn't coincidence, however, that all of the nations were thinking about one person in particular—Russia.

He was lying on the single hospital bed, looking both comical and pathetic in a hospital gown, various needles and tubes connecting to different intimidating pieces of equipment. Since the doctors declared him 'stable', they had finally let in Russia's 'family and friends', who either poured into the room screaming insanities or slinked in like they really didn't want to be there. The 'family and friends' included all of the pre-Soviet countries, give or take a few nations. And of course, behind the pack ran Kitty, who had become very, _very_ attached to Latvia in a matter of ten seconds.

In the two categories that were just listed, Lithuania was in the 'meh' category. Truthfully, he felt horrible for Russia, despite what the larger nation had once done to him. Half of Lithuania suspected that most of the pity for Russia came from China. For some reason, he could never see the Asian country unhappy. And _that_ was because when China was unhappy, Russia was unhappy.

And when Russia was unhappy…

…

You really don't want us to finish that sentence.

Lithuania glanced at Poland, who had his jaw clenched and was determinedly staring forward as if there was not an unconscious nation in the room. He was acting rather strange these days. "Please relax." Lithuania had meant for it to seem more like a demand, but it had come out as begging. Poland looked down briefly, but the thin line of his mouth only tightened and he seemed to…_glare_…at Russia again. "What's wrong?"

"Like, all's totally fine, Liet," Poland snapped. All of the other countries in the room immediately started staring at the two. Lithuania blushed at the attention and bowed his head, hearing Poland declare, "I, like, need to catch some air." And with that, footsteps sounded their way to the door and slammed it shut before anyone could even say a word.

Silence dominated for a few seconds, before Estonia finally sighed. "Finally, he left," he said, shaking his head. "Now we can start talking about a few things that we need to cover." Belarus looked up, raising an eyebrow in question while Latvia seemed to want to shrink a little more than usual into his seat. Kitty, completely oblivious to the mood of the room, barked cheerfully and squirmed slightly when Latvia squeezed her too tight. 'Hey! Ouch…that hurts!'

"What…do you mean?" Finland asked, tentatively. All he wanted to do at this point was to return to Sweden and Hana-Tamago, but it wasn't like he was about to bail on his former ruler. And besides…Belarus would have hunted him down if he hadn't come. "Poland is so nice. Why would you want to keep him out of something?"

Estonia looked genuinely surprised. "You mean…you guys haven't noticed?"

"Noticed what?" Belarus snorted, leaning back in her chair. "The fact that Poland looks like he wants to rip off the head of anyone that wants to get near Lithuania these days? Yeah, I think everyone knows about it. He's _obviously_ one of the killers."

At that, everyone in the room seemed to either choke on their own spit or drop whatever they were holding in their hands (Kitty) in surprise.

"H-How can you say that?!" Lithuania cried almost immediately. (He had been one of the ones that had problems with their saliva.) "Poland is my friend! He would never do anything like that!" Lithuania couldn't believe it! Sure, no one here was particularly _friends_, since they all seemed to be split on liking Russia or not, but accusing one of their former comrades was insane!

"Lithuania, no offense or anything, but you're friends with _everyone_," Belarus scoffed, her tone suggesting that she wasn't as kind to Lithuania as her words had conveyed. "And you even say that America is your 'friend', when he obviously killed Switzerland."

"America didn't kill Switzerland," Finland said quietly, his brow furrowing just slightly. "America doesn't have the heart to kill anyone. He might act…dense sometimes, but…he wouldn't kill anyone!" Belarus narrowed her eyes at Finland, who looked down. "I…sorry."

"Belarus, please." Lithuania half got off his chair, looking pleadingly at Belarus. These were tough times. They couldn't afford to fight one another right now. "Please, don't suspect Poland. Or America, for that matter. They've never done anything wrong!"

"Poland tried to kill Ivan. That's not enough?" Belarus rolled her eyes and then violently jabbed a finger in Lithuania's direction. "You're just too stupid and innocent to notice! You think Poland's acting like he usually does, when he's really being all suspicious! He _did_ attack Ivan!"

Lithuania cringed slightly at the repeated accusations that were being continuously hurled at his best friend. "Belarus, I've been with Poland for a long time." Lithuania tried to keep his voice straight, but it trembled slightly. "He wouldn't ever kill anyone for me."

Belarus scowled. "Lithuania. Please. Even that stupid _dog_ knows that Poland attacked Ivan." Kitty looked up as if someone had called her, and then simply sat down again, starting to pant with her small tongue lolling out. Latvia picked her up and moved her protectively onto his lap.

"Kitty's not stupid," he said, looking and sounding crushed.

"Belarus, you should calm down," Estonia said, not sounding so calm himself. He actually sounded like he was on the verge of tears. Lithuania blinked at him with awe.

"You agree with her." It wasn't a question.

Estonia looked away, breathing slowly to try and calm himself. He didn't answer. Belarus looked at him for a few moments, and then suddenly turned on Lithuania, this time with a triumphant sort of look. "See? I'm right. Even Estonia thinks that Poland is guilty! We have to tell the others."

"No!" Lithuania's eyes widened. "Belarus, you're wrong! I know you're wrong! Just give up on it, will you?!"

Belarus's eyes widened with surprise at Lithuania's exclamation, and then suddenly narrowed them again. "You _stupid_, _native_, _retard_." She stretched out each word until she was shaking with fury. She started seeing everything through a red haze, and suddenly every single word that Belarus said seemed to fly straight into Lithuania's heart. "I can't trust _anyone_ now, now that even _Ivan's_ been attacked! Just _admit _it! _Poland attacked Ivan_! _He attacked Ivan_! _He's a killer_!"

Lithuania shook slightly with fear and horror and slapped his hands over his ears. He couldn't hear any more. He couldn't possibly listen to this any more. "No! He didn't! Poland wouldn't kill anyone! He wouldn't do anything like that! He's my friend!"

Belarus gave a roar of rage and dove forward, unsheathing a blade and swinging it up to Lithuania's neck. Tears splattered in the rough trail of her path, dripping onto the ground, and then continuing to pour down ruddy cheeks. She looked unbelievably vulnerable—as if a single snap could break her, despite the fact that she was holding a blade to his neck. "You…you bastard!" Belarus shrieked through her tears, watching as Lithuania's breath hitched slightly as the blade drew a small drop of blood. "You…you fucking bastard! You don't care! You don't care about Ivan! You don't care if he dies!"

"Belarus!" Estonia cried, alarmed, as he and Ukraine leapt forward to catch Belarus's arms. Latvia gave a squeak and seemed to shrink into his chair, trembling as if he was going to fall apart. Kitty, still innocent (and stupid), only licked Latvia's chin as the smaller nation started shaking even harder.

"Belarus! Calm down!" Ukraine shouted out as she tightened her grip on her younger sister. Belarus gave another inhuman shriek and continued to struggle, her eyes wide and frightening. She tried to leap forward, only to be stopped by Finland's arms, which suddenly twined around her waist from behind.

"B-Belarus! Can you sit back down, please?" Finland stuttered. Belarus snarled and swung her knife in a gigantic arc, forcing Estonia to let go, nicking Finland in the neck in the process. The small nation fell back, stunned, while Latvia gave a squeak and ran up to him, closely followed by Kitty.

"_Sestra_!"

Ukraine slapped Belarus across the face.

…

The knife fell to the ground with a loud clatter, Belarus falling onto her knees. "…_Ivan_…_pomogi mne_…," she whispered, her eyes looking up, unseeing. Ukraine gave a choking sob, and then followed her younger sister to the ground, both of them crying openly, Belarus's face buried into Ukraine's chest. Estonia slowly dropped his hands, shaking horribly, and leaned against the wall, sliding to the ground with one arm over his eyes. Finland shook with fright and wrapped his arms around Latvia, wailing softly for Sweden. Lithuania closed his eyes and tilted his head back until it hit the wall, tears softly flowing down his face.

Poland looked at the nations in the room for a few more moments, and then slid the door all the way shut.

~*~-~*~

"AAARGH, ARU!"

"Ouch, _aniki_, that hurt!" Korea wailed, clutching an already forming bruise on his nose, the lovely purple shade already starting to nicely compliment the _other_ bruise that China had given him. China sat on the hospital bed, breathing heavily, considering the fact that the first thing that he saw after he woke up was Korea jumping at him.

"_Nǐ méi shì-èr mā_?" Taiwan asked anxiously in Chinese, jumping up immediately from her small stool by the foot of the hospital bed. Hong Kong sighed and swiped her chair out from under her before she could trip on one of the legs. Neither of them even glanced once at Korea, who was once again rolling around on the ground.

"I'm fine~aru," China said, managing to pull a smile, despite the fact that all he wanted to do at the moment was collapse back onto the pillows and fall asleep again. But…"Where are we~aru?"

Taiwan hesitated, glancing first at Hong Kong, then at Japan before turning back to China, her hands clasped behind her back. "Yao, first promise me…_us_…that you won't jump out of bed at the first opportunity." China blinked. Of all things to ask for, why did they ask for something this strange and easily granted?

"Sure~aru."

"You're in the hospital, China-san," Japan said, not looking China in the eye. The elder nation frowned at that, but soon, another factor caught his eye.

He was in a hospital.

…

…

…

Why was he in a hospital again?

"Uh…" China looked around the room, frowning slightly. Okay. They were keeping something from him. Oh well. He was smart—he would figure it out. It seemed like he was somehow injured…

"He hasn't suffered amnesia, has he?" Hong Kong asked Taiwan from under his breath. Taiwan looked horrified at the mere thought, and then quickly shook her head, as if she couldn't bear the idea. Then, after a pause, she leapt forward and grabbed China by the shoulders, startling the nation out of his musings.

"Yao! You know who I am, right?!"

China blinked, confused. Of course he knew who Taiwan was. He had raised her. He had been there when she first asked him what 'sex' was. He had watched her play with Belarus before, which of course resulted Taiwan in running home in tears. "You're Ta…_Ivan_."

"No!" Taiwan cried with agony. "He really forgot!"

"Taiwan, I think he was talking about something else," Hong Kong said patiently, tugging his sister so she'd sit back down. Taiwan wriggled free of her brother's grip on her dress however, turning around to slap his hands off of her.

Meanwhile, China had suddenly remembered everything. The fight. The irritation of thinking Ivan had fallen asleep on the table. The horror when he realized he was injured. The despair that almost seemed to swallow him when he realized that there was nothing that he could do for him.

But if he was in the hospital, didn't that mean that Ivan was here too? Either that or…or…

He was dead.

China felt like he was going to throw up.

He reached down and pulled off the covers all at once, revealing his hospital gown, and quickly swung his legs around the side of his bed, jumping down. That, however, might have _not_ been the best idea, since it seemed like the world was spinning the second he put weight on his feet. China gave a squeak of surprise, and started to topple, only to be caught two seconds later by Hong Kong and Japan.

"You promised not to leave the bed," Japan sighed, trying to push China back. However, after resting for who knows how long, China was no longer feeling submissive. He (as gently as he could) twisted his arms back, causing Hong Kong and Japan to loose their balance and then lean all their weight on China, who then flicked his arms forward, sending his brothers flying towards the wall.

Without the support, China once again started to stumble. He forced his shaking legs to keep him up, and then took one tentative step forward. His leg immediately buckled, forcing him to grip onto the bedpost for dear life. "Yao," Taiwan said, jumping forward. "Get back in bed now! You promised."

"I…I…have to see Ivan~aru…" he gasped, moving so that he was using the wall as support now. "I…need to…to…"

"He's alive, so please get back in bed!" Taiwan wailed. "He's alive, but the doctors say he's in a coma." This only made China more determined. "He's stable and not going anywhere, so please get back to bed. You can see him when you're strong enough!"

"No...I have-"

A hand landed on China's shoulder. It wasn't Taiwan's small and delicate one—it was a large and rough one. "China. Sit back down." That voice. It was Korea. And for some reason, he didn't sound as happy and cheerful as he usually did. China gulped. There were only a few times that Korea had ever gone completely serious, and those times could be easily counted on one hand.

The room started spinning. "I…I won't~aru."

"…"

Korea placed a hand on the small of China's back and flipped him over. China gave another undignified squeak as he landed harshly back on the bed, his back starting to throb with Korea's merciless toss. "Dammit." Korea actually looked like he was about to cry. "Stop being so selfish. Is that stupid Russia all you care about?"

"Korea," Taiwan whispered, extending a hand towards her brother. He slapped it away.

"No. He needs to hear this." Korea rounded on China once more. "Just because Russia got attacked, does that mean that you aren't of any importance anymore? Is it just because you care about him? No, don't give me that love shit. I want to know about _you_. Do you think that we're worried for you at _all_? What do you think—if you care about Ivan, that he's going to replace us? Or has he already?"

"Korea, you're speaking like a little child fighting for his father's attention," Japan said quietly. Korea completely ignored him.

"We aren't kids anymore! And even though we've grown up, we still care about you! Did you ever possibly think to ever honor _our_ wishes? Like maybe we don't want you to do stupid, reckless things for a reason! Maybe we want you to stay safe, so we don't have to watch _dà gē_ die of…of…tripping down the stairs!"

"Korea. That's enough!" Japan snapped. He grabbed his brother by the arm and dragged him out of the room. China looked rather blankly at the door, his mind still trying to process the words that Korea said.

His natural instinct told him to deny it. It told him to completely shun the idea, and go back to the safe haven that innocence brought him. But for once, that little save haven didn't exist anymore. For some reason, it seemed to be…cracking. Splitting. Shattering.

His world was falling apart.

So, what should he do now? China really didn't remember how he used to deal with such situations. By this point, he would usually be completely forgetting about it. But this time it was different. He was going to have to accept the fact that what Korea said might be true. Did they really care about him that much? But if they did…then why did they leave? China's throat tightened. Why did Korea, Vietnam, and Japan leave in the first place? Why did they leave when they could just be one big happy family, just like how England's used to be?

Reality was so much more complicated and sharp than what his world was like. He wanted to go back. He wanted to grab those shattered pieces and glue them back together. But, China already knew that they wouldn't stay. After all, how can someone glue something back together without the glue?

"Yao?" China blinked and looked down. Taiwan had grabbed his hand, and was looking up at him with hesitation. She clearly didn't like intruding on what thoughts China might have been dwelling on, but it seemed like she was genuinely worried for him. _Genuinely…worried…?_ "A-Are you okay?"

"You spaced out for a few moments," Hong Kong said. China looked up to see him reclining on the two back legs of his chair. Korea and Japan were nowhere to be seen. China looked back at Hong Kong to see his brown eyes half-closed with apparent boredom. "You looked…sad."

"I did~aru?" China asked before he could help himself. He immediately scolded himself afterward—that one question had too much curiosity in it, as was proven by Hong Kong's now slightly tilted head, his thicker eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly.

"You looked…lonely too." Taiwan sounded sad. Her eyes were downcast, her fingers had flipped over China's palm and was tracing the small creases. "It was like…you were the last person standing on this earth. I…Is what Korea said true? Are we really nothing, compared to Ivan?"

Hong Kong turned his expectant gaze on China. Taiwan looked like she was ready to burst into tears.

China wanted to scream. He didn't know what was the right answer anymore. In his old world, the rules were simple. Do whatever it takes to not hurt yourself. But in reality, everything was different. Suddenly, you had to take care of other people—you have to make sure whether or not you want to hurt them.

"You guys are my family~aru. I love you just as much."

Taiwan gave a bright and relieved smile, leaning forward to hug China. "And we're going to be a family forever, right?"

"…Forever," China agreed.

~*~-~*~

"How could you say those things?"

Korea didn't look ashamed. He just stared right into Japan's eyes, believing one hundred percent that what he just shouted at China was right. "It's true. Don't tell me you haven't noticed. China doesn't care about us anymore. All he cares about these days is Russia."

Japan felt like running headlong into a large, brick wall. What was wrong with Korea? Was the stupid nation thinking that the world revolved around what he wanted? "Korea, Russia-san is just a very important person to China-san," Japan said tightly, willing himself not to just go ahead and karate chop Korea's ass. "You, of course, who never liked anyone in particular, will not understand."

Korea's eye twitched. "Are you telling me that you have?"

"Not particularly, no," Japan admitted. "But that does not cover the point. The point, Korea, is that unlike Russia-san right now, _you_ are not in a comatose state and are not in any immediate sort of danger."

Korea rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Okay. And even if I _was_ in a coma, China wouldn't care. Because as long as he has his stupid little _Ivan_, he's perfectly fine."

Japan wanted to wring Korea's neck. "Korea, China-san is in the middle of a mental breakdown right now. You did nothing but upset him, considering the fact that there is a killer on the loose and his lover just got attacked and was declared stable only a few hours ago. But those particular events will never change the fact that he does care about us. Because we're family." It was true. Family was everything to the Asian countries. Japan knew that China wouldn't abandon his family.

Korea huffed and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall as if he was _forced_ to talk to Japan. "What you said just now was so cheesy. So what if we're family? Did you see what happened to England's? Did you see what happened to Spain's? Yeah. They go kaplut after a few decades, even."

Japan fought the urge to slap Korea. "…Are you throwing a temper tantrum because you're jealous of Russia-san?"

"No!" Korea shouted. Too loud. "I'm definitely not jealous of that stupid oaf! I just don't understand why, if what you said was true, why China doesn't put his stupid fucking _family_ first! We've been with him longer! Don't you think that he should listen to us more than he listens to that _Russia_?!"

"Because, as I also have said before, Russia-san is a very important person to China-san," Japan said patiently. He didn't have the energy to fight with an angry Korea right now. "I wouldn't be surprised if they confide to each other daily, which means that they understand perfectly how the other would think and act." Pause. "I bet Russia-san would have also told China-san to stay in bed, so I don't see what you're making a big fuss about."

"My 'fuss' is that China cares more about him than us!" Korea shouted, his voice only growing in volume. Japan heard the chatter in the rooms beside them fall silent. "The first thing he cares about when he wakes up is to see if Russia is okay! He doesn't care about whether or not we're okay."

"You're repeating yourself," Japan sighed wearily. "I thought we already had this argument? We are not hurt. Russia-san is. It's natural for China-san to be worried about Russia-san. You would do the same if I was unhurt and China-san was."

"You ARE unhurt and China IS hurt!" Korea slammed his fist into the wall, making Japan jump slightly. "I just don't see why China doesn't put family before all of his other friends!"

Japan refrained from massaging his temples. "Your reason keeps on changing," he muttered to himself, before raising his voice as well. "Korea, yes, family is important and everything, but there are other people in the world as well. If you keep yourself hidden in us few Asian nations, then of course you would-"

"Fall?" Korea guessed bitterly. "Become lonely? Yeah, in case if you haven't noticed right now, Japan, I'm not doing so hot. Believe it or not, I'm actually _suffering _because of these nations being attacked. I don't know about you, but my people are kinda _freaked out_ to find out nations are suddenly collapsing. That's why you have family. You're supposed to be able to run to family when you're hurt, and they're supposed to make you feel better! But what happens with China? He runs to Ivan! What are we supposed to do then?!"

"Leave him be," Japan said. "Because he's a nation and he deserves to choose for himself. Especially considering the fact that both China and I are your elders, and it's not right for you to ever argue with us."

Korea glared at Japan for a while. "You just don't get it," he finally snarled. "Family is supposed to be together forever. It's not meant to break up suddenly for no reason because one person goes off to someone else."

Japan felt a headache coming on. "Korea, if that's how you speak, then that means you have a very small family."

Korea's eyes snapped to Japan's face. "_What_? I have the same family as _you_. Insulting 'my' family is the same as insulting 'your' family. And what's the good of insulting yourself?"

Japan felt the slightest pangs of pity for Korea. So that's how Korea's been thinking all this time? He thought that there was only one family for him? Japan sighed, and then shook his head slightly. "Korea…Korea…you're still a young one, aren't you." Japan looked up and then smiled at Korea for the first time since the argument. Korea, however, looked like he'd been punched. "Listen up, little brother. We aren't your family. First of all, we weren't born of the same mother. In face, none of the nations are born with families.

"Our families are created through bonds. I had only become part of China-san's family when he decided to take me in and raise me. Until then, I had no family other then myself. I suppose that you can say that in our world, families are created through friendship. I consider Germany-sama and Italy-san to be a very interesting addition to my family.

"I have to say that it would probably be the same for our people as well. A child should not be considered part of a family until the parents willingly take it in and accept it. If the parents throw out the child, then the child finds a new family and considers their old family someone that they still have bonds to, but a family of the past.

"Therefore, Korea, you should not limit your family to us Asian nations. Go out and find yourself a bigger family. Then, you will understand how China-san feels. Russia-san is now part of his family. See if you can find someone else that can be part of yours," Japan finished, looking up expectantly at Korea. The younger nation, however, looked hesitantly at Japan for a while before turning around and stalking down the hallway. Japan's smile faded away into a frown. Had he done something wrong?

Japan heard faint clapping from behind him, and he turned around to see Hong Kong leaning against the stretch of wall just outside China's door. "Nice speech, Japan. Much better than anything I could have ever dreamed of doing." Now that the drama was over, Japan felt slightly foolish for letting spill all of those meaningful words to Korea, in a hospital of all places. Hong Kong noticed Japan's hesitation. "I'm serious. It was a wonderful sermon. A short one, admittedly. At first I thought that you were going to go for each other's throats."

Japan decided that changing the topic would be safest. "Hong Kong-san, not to sound rude or anything, but shouldn't you be inside with China and Taiwan?"

"They're having a little dramatic family moment right now, so I'd rather stay out of the scene for a while," Hong Kong sighed, scratching his scalp. "But now that I see you're done and the crying from inside seems to have died down, would you like to come back in? I can go after Korea if you'd like."

"No, no, that's fine," Japan said too quickly. Hong Kong raised his eyebrows at this. Japan tried to explain as plainly as he could. "I have somewhere I need to be. I can find Korea on the way and send him back here." Hong Kong frowned when he realized Japan wasn't going to tell him _where_ he would be.

"Suit yourself," he finally said, turning to re-enter China's room. "If Korea doesn't come back, I'll call you. Have a safe trip."

Japan nodded once and walked away.

* * *

***Edit* The old poll is off our profile, and the new one is up! Please vote! n.n**


	9. The Night Stalker

**Here's chappie No. 9 from Lucky! n.n**

**And just to remind you guys, the next poll is now open! You can vote for who you think the Green killer is, okay? And mentioning the killers...we might have a little surprise for you this chappie~!**

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**Disclaimer: We don't own Hetalia. If we did, well...it wouldn't be Hetalia anymore. **

* * *

Japan walked quietly up the front path to America's house. Of course he and Italy had told Germany that this was simply to prove America innocent just so he would give his consent, but in actuality, Japan wasn't as sure as he said about America. He didn't know what the feeling was—but there was most definitely a feeling. A feeling that even if America wasn't a killer, he was somehow _closely_ linked to what was happening.

Of course, there was also the half of Japan that thought every single inference that he made was wrong. And that could be possible. Italy had proved to be invaluable in his detective abilities, and that alone had helped the three of them along much further than any of the other nations would have been able to do all together. But Italy was still a normal nation. Even if he and Japan came up with the same answer, it could still be false.

_We just have to take risks, I suppose_, Japan thought, staring determinedly ahead. But if there was one thing he learned from his detective manga and his romantic anime, it was that the good guys always won. So, Japan's thinking was as thus: If he played a good guy, then he would win.

…Right?

Japan shook his head, scolding himself for thinking so simply. It wasn't as if this was one of his cartoons and novels he enjoyed indulging in. This was real life. And from experience with China, if you stayed for too long in your own world, reality would be too cold and cruel for you to handle. And though Japan loved China very much as a brother, he certainly did not want to _be_ like China.

But back to the task at hand. Japan shuddered only slightly as he remembered Italy's cheerful remarks about climbing through open windows and scaling brick walls. Japan wasn't ready for any of that, and he hoped desperately that he wouldn't have to before this little spying trip was over. Of course he might have to sneak around some, but it was worth it if the killings were stopped.

Japan shivered a bit in the crisp, cooling fall breeze. He hadn't really thought about how cold it would be this late in the afternoon, but apparently Mother Nature wasn't too kind to stalk—no! Japan was not stalking America! He was spying on him! He was doing his job!

…Yeah. Okay.

_Traitor thoughts_. Japan shook his head, pursing his lips and fighting the many butterflies in his stomach. He walked up slowly to America's doorway, the crunch of brown leaves beneath his feet. Japan hissed and cursed his inability to pass by without being noticed. At this rate, America would _hear_ him before he _saw_ him. Which, of course, would be too embarrassing to explain. "Hello, I'm just dropping by to wonder why you were acting so strange. You know, only because a lot of the nations seem to think that you're one of the killers," Japan practiced out loud. He huffed when he noticed the accusing tone of the words. "No…that's no good…"

"I wanted to see if you're okay."

"England-san sent me."

"Did you kill Switzerland-san?"

"Where's the knife?"

"No, no too straightforward," Japan muttered to himself, stopping suddenly with surprise when he realized that he had already reached America's front door. Japan looked up, frowning at the curtains drawn over the windows, almost as if the house had withdrawn in on itself. He reached out a hand, hesitated, and then wiggled the doorknob a bit.

_BEEP…BEEP…BEEP…INTRUDER ALERT…INTRUDER ALERT…_

Japan gave a squeak as the burglar alarm started sounding, and dove as fast as he could into one of the bushes that lined the side of the steps. "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, _stupid_!" Japan hissed quickly under his breath, peering out from the shrubbery. Of _course_ America's house was under tight security. Everyone's house was. It was only logical, considering the fact that there were masked killers running around.

An American soldier jumped through the doors, causing Japan to shrink further into the small bush. The soldier raised his gun, looking cautiously around the dusk, all of his muscles tensed. "Who's there?!" he demanded, his loud voice causing a few lone crows to surface from the treetops. "Show yourself!"

Japan crouched lower into the foliage, hearing his pulse beat like a wild rabbit on the run. The man swept his eyes over the spot where Japan was hiding once, and then turned to gaze in the opposite direction. He lowered his gun the fraction of a bit, seemingly confused that there was no one in sight.

Japan gave himself silent praise for not being discovered yet, and stood up slowly, careful not to brush his uniform against any loose branches so he didn't cause any unnecessary noise. Seeing as the soldier hadn't bothered to look back in Japan's direction again, the nation started slowly easing himself back. _Everything's going to be fine_, Japan told himself, backing away slowly and sticking to the shadows. _He's not going to discover me. I'm not going to get shot_.

And then…

Japan tripped over a rock and promptly slammed into the ground with a very loud thump.

Yes, Mother Nature was not kind at all to stal—_spies_.

"Freeze!" Japan groaned slightly, sprawled on his back. He had landed on a pointy rock, or at least something of equal or greater value. He was going to have a bruise after this escapade. Japan lifted his head just slightly, and blinked when he saw that the soldier was now easing himself down the stairs, never once letting his gun point away from the nation. "Don't move!"

Oh, Japan was certainly not even _thinking_ of moving at the moment. _Do all Americans have to be this loud…?_ Japan thought miserably. The stomping of boots grew closer and closer to him, and now he could see the guard's cold brown eyes. Japan never knew that brown eyes could be cold. Maybe blue or green eyes, but most definitely not brown. It appeared that he was wrong…again. "Put your arms behind your head and drop your weapons!" Okay, this wasn't very nice. Japan was a _nation_, for heaven's sake. He shouldn't let himself get pushed around by mere _humans_, much less an _American_ human.

Japan stood up with as much dignity as he could (given his hair was tangled in a branch and he excused himself for the briefest of moments to get it loose) but that wasn't the point. In the end, Japan was standing, facing the American soldier (who was about a head taller than him), with his hands certainly not behind his head, and not dropping his weapon…though it wasn't like Japan actually had one. He cursed the fact that he was never prepared for situations like these. "Excuse me," Japan said as fluidly as he could, trying not to stare at the gun barrel pointed right at his head. "But I must talk to America-san. Is he in?"

The guard's gun lowered the slightest bit. "You…You know that Mr. Jones is…is…?"

"A nation, yes," Japan said, now leaning on and tapping his foot impatiently, giving off the aura that he was much better than this man and could be doing something so much more productive than talk to him. But that was all a mask to hide the fact that Japan was still frequently throwing glances at the gun, which he supposed was loaded. With bullets. That would hurt. "My name is Japan, now may I please see America-san? I'd also appreciate it if you didn't keep pointing that…repulsive thing at me."

The guard immediately dropped his gun to his side, his face looking horrified at having pointed any sort of weapon at a nation. Japan couldn't stop the relieved sigh when he saw the firearm being lowered. He really wasn't in the mood to get shot at the moment. The guard hastily ran a finger through his hair to make it look slightly more presentable, although it didn't help much. "T-Terribly sorry, Mr. Japan, and I-I assure you that it won't happen again. You see, there are only so many things that one can do to put food on the table for—"

"Yes, yes," Japan said hastily, just now realizing this man was a rambler. And if there was one thing Japan learned in how to deal with ramblers, it was that you have to shut them up quickly before they gained even more steam and practically plowed right through you. "America-san. May I please speak with America-san?"

"O-Oh! Of course, r-right this way." The American soldier stepped out of the path, suddenly not looking as menacing as he tripped slightly over a clump of grass, allowing Kiku to pass. And he did so, head raised high enough to show power but not so high that it made him look like a snotty little teenage girl. The guard seemed to fumble with the gun for a moment, and then ran past Japan, opening the door for him. Japan blinked, slightly surprised, but complied and walked through, taking off his shoes as a habit.

The guard glanced around slowly, nervously, as if looking for guidance in how to treat such an important visitor. However, all of the servants didn't bother to spare him even a single glance. It was only a tiny little brunette boy that ran up to the awkward two, making motions almost as if he was a plane and was flying through skies filled with enemies. "Oh! Hello, Robert! Off making trouble again, I see. And Mr. Japan! How nice of you to visit us! Did you want to talk to Dad?" The small boy's speech had just the slightest hint of a British accent, his eyebrows just slightly thicker than an average person's.

"If it's no problem, Delaware," Japan said, bowing politely. The guard, Robert, realized that he wasn't needed anymore and then blubbered a goodbye, opening a door that branched off the entrance hallway, throwing Kiku one last curious glance before completely shutting the door. The brunette boy laughed, blue eyes sparkling.

"No trouble at all, Mr. Japan!" Delaware bounced cheerfully on the balls of his feet, immediately grabbing Japan's hand and tugging him furiously up the stairs. "To tell you the truth," the small state whispered quietly, pulling down Japan slightly so he wouldn't have to talk to loud, "I don't think Dad's very happy right now. You'll have to cheer him up a bit, so it'll be a surprise, okay?" Japan nodded.

"Is he always unhappy these days?"

Delaware sighed, soon turning that frown into a small pout. "Very much so. I don't even think that any of my brothers or sisters have been able to get a response out of him that is more than two words long. Even Pennsylvania is having problems connecting to Dad." Japan grimaced. He had once met Pennsylvania—an upbeat teenage boy who's sense of justice rivaled his father's.

"Was he ever…gone for a long period of time?"

Delaware glanced at Japan quickly out of the corner of his eye. When he next spoke, it wasn't with that childish tone that he had used before. It suddenly was softer, lighter, but more dangerous. "Mr. Japan, I like you very much, but if you go around accusing my father of being one of the killers, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Japan inwardly sighed. Delaware, despite looks, was very alert and attentive. There would be no getting information from him. "I did hear from Alaska that you, Mr. Germany and Mr. Italy are trying to find out who the killers are, but please don't make Daddy any sadder than he already is." Delaware abruptly smiled at Japan. "Okay?"

"Okay," Japan said rather helplessly, nodding as they took a sharp turn into a very small hallway. He noticed that there was a single door at the end, one that was so ornate it made all of the other doors in the house seem completely plain, despite the fact that they too were very pretty. Japan also noticed that though the rest of the house was loud with the sound of life, this corridor seemed to be very, _very_ quiet. He looked hesitantly at Delaware, who simply stared straight ahead, his eyes suddenly emotionless.

"Well, Mr. Japan, this is where I leave you." The smaller boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a lollipop, opening the plastic and sucking on it appreciatively. "Please do your best." And with that, the state of Delaware turned and started back down the hallway. Japan frowned at the small retreating figure. It was almost as if Delaware was giving him a clue…or maybe even possibly warning him…?

But Japan really didn't have time to ponder this. He was supposed to have sneaked into the house, but now that he was actually _in_ the house, he realized that it would have been impossible to pass by all these people without alerting anyone. So the stalk—sorry, _sneaking_ part of his trip was already given a 'fail' mark. Japan sighed, feeling mentally and physically exhausted. What he would do for a nice, warm cup of tea right about now…

No! He was Japan! He was on a mission! And that mission was to prove America guilty! No, innocent, innocent, he meant innocent.

…Yeah.

Japan sighed, shaking his head for good measure before knocking gently on the door. He couldn't believe that it could get even quieter than before, but the world seemed to suddenly stand still as his knock echoed a bit. No one answered. Japan frowned. If America didn't want him to come in, he probably would have tossed a pillow at the door and mumbled, "Go away." But he didn't, and Japan didn't see anything wrong with investigating an empty room, so he simply opened the door.

It seemed like no one was inside. Japan looked around, completely and utterly surprised. While the door looked to be of an old fashioned design, the inside was more modern than Japan could have hoped for. More modern…and more messy. An unmade bed was lying at the center-back, a strangely shaped and patterned carpet in front of it. Bookshelves lined one wall, though they were only stuffed full of trinkets and driftwood that were unconsciously shaped like animals instead of actual books. A desk was pushed into one corner, a gigantic computer perched precariously on a stack of important looking papers. And if Japan moved forward a bit, he could see that what he thought was a dresser turn out to be a piece of furniture holding a gigantic flat-screen TV. A door across from the one Japan entered in opened. Japan squeaked and hid behind the dresser-TV.

It was a bathroom, and of course from within a gigantic cloud of steam, America stepped out. Japan gasped and blushed, looking determinedly up at the ceiling. America was only wearing jeans, the button and zipper undone, with a towel around his shoulders. After one glance, Japan would usually be kind enough to look the other way while a nation dressed. But…something was off with America.

Yes, something seemed very wrong.

Something seemed wrong enough that Japan hesitated, and looked back.

…

And then he promptly felt like he was either going to throw up or cry.

"America-san…what happened to you?"

Oh crap.

Did he just say that out loud?

Japan mentally cursed himself for his own stupidity.

America visibly jumped and swung his head around to hear the voice that had magically surfaced from his TV. TVs just didn't magically get up and decide to talk. However, he _could_ see a faint flash of white. And the name, it couldn't be… "Japan? What…are you doing in my room?"

Japan sighed helplessly. There was no avoiding it now. He reluctantly got up and stepped out. His sneaking skills were in horrible shape. Japan looked at America for a few more moments, and then stiffened again.

The damage was worse when Japan looked at it head on. The bruises that had only seemed like little splotches of purple and black were terrifyingly large, stretching across the whole of America's chest. Now Japan could see the bruise that he originally thought was from the binoculars actually stretched pass that, curving down until it ended somewhere around America's jaw. His arms were completely black with bruises, and had a few large, deep cuts splayed irregularly. Japan let out a low hiss, and then strode across to America, who backed away automatically. Japan completely ignored it, however, and simply turned America around.

Japan gave a strangled cry.

Whiplashes. Open, bleeding, clotting, infecting whiplashes. Ones that seemed to draw cruel remakes of tic-tac-toe boards all across America's back. Very, _very_ small tic-tac-toe boards. So small that Japan couldn't tell where one started and the other ended. America's skin was so red, it looked almost as if he already had past whippings, and before those could heal, received another bout.

Japan fell onto his knees, leg folding, his head falling into his hands. He was very surprised to feel tears trickle down his cheeks. He was crying.

What…had happened here?

~*~-~*~

I stretched my arms above my head, leaning back into the plush lining of the seat. Earlier today, He had sent us a small letter that stated that we were to be standing outside our door at seven at night, without our masks, and we were to be driven to the SLK base. Where, of course, He would communicate with us. I have to admit I was very excited—I always wanted to know who the other SLK members were. It was His decision to not tell us right off the bat.

The driver and I were separated by a tinted window. I could see him, but he couldn't see me. The car windows were the same thing. I've already seen many of the children in passing cars stare and stare at the limo. I wasn't used to this attention, however, and simply looked away.

"We will be arriving soon, Mr. Green."

"Does that mean I should put my mask on?"

"Yes."

I shrugged and reached on the seat next to me, gently fitting the beautiful accessory onto my face. I was very fond of my mask. In my eyes, it was one of the most elegant things I had ever seen and owned. Our leader told us that He handmade these, which is why none of our masks were the same.

I already knew that I was going to be in trouble at this meeting. All of us knew that. Failure was not an option, and as usual, He was not very tolerant of useless people. I couldn't help shuddering slightly. White had pulled off the first attack perfectly, and I suppose I ran around with too much confidence. But at least I knew he wasn't going to kill me.

Because we are necessary.

We are very, _very_ important to him. After all, if there is diversity, it's harder to catch us. And although Italy and those others are trying to find out who we are, they will never be able to get away with it.

"We're here."

I was jostled out of my thoughts, jumping ever so slightly. The driver didn't turn around, nor did he say anything after that, so I just opened the car door and eased out myself. I found a small house right across from me, a stone path leading to it. I smirked and walked up the path, punching in the thirty-character long code. From behind me, the car revved slightly and drove away, crunching on the gravel.

The door swung open. I smiled and stepped into the inky blackness, hearing the opening behind me close with a faint _click_. After standing there for a few moments, lights popped on, revealing a single large room. Seven computer monitors were attached to the walls, wires and cable cords running in all haphazard directions. I walked over to the thermostat and turned it down a bit, then sat down in the single swivel chair, pushing a button that made six screens come to life. The largest one in the middle started pulsing with black and white static, but since He probably wasn't looking right now, I tried not to think too hard about how mad he would be at me.

It seemed like I joined in when Yellow was in the middle of a sentence, however, because the computer generated voice emitting from the yellow screen sounded just slightly pissed off. "Green, couldn't you pick some better time to place your arrival?"

White giggled. "Now now, Yellow, don't go around getting a big head."

"Stop fighting. It's annoying," Red said firmly.

"But we've barely started," White sighed, the automated voice almost sounding depressed even through the computer screens. "You're too uptight, Red."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am _not_."

"I can't even hear myself think," Blue sighed as Red and White continued bickering in the background.

"Join the club," Pink said wryly.

"Oh, Yellow, Blue, Pink, you guys are so bad-tempered," I couldn't help laughing.

"Green's right! Join in on the festivities!" Purple declared. "Though I must admit, Red, White, you two fight like an old married couple."

"Do _not_," Red hissed. "I don't even know who White is!"

"Well none of us know who the others are," Pink sighed. "So it's perfectly fine if you fall in love with a TV screen."

"Yes! Phone sex!" Blue laughed, which made everyone else laugh as well.

"It's more like TV sex, now that you think about it," Red muttered thoughtfully.

"Oh Yellow," Purple began jokingly. "How I would _love_ to seize your vital regions." Everyone laughed.

"If you can reach me through the computer screen, love," Yellow teased right back. "I'll be waiting right here." A loud hoot came from Blue, along with a few loud giggles from Pink.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to stop all of the giggles. This was so wrong. We were killers. But I suppose that it was times like these we were reminded we, too, used to just be normal nations. That we used to be able to do this without the dark underlying us… "Goodness, Green, you sound like you're dying," Pink commented, which started another bout of chuckles.

"Whoever did it, fess up!" White cried in a fake panicking voice.

"I'm so sorry, but it was me," Blue said, sighing in an overtly-dramatic way, which caused more giggles. "I just couldn't resist how damn _hot_ Green was." I felt a slight blush creeping across my cheeks as the others started laughing again.

"Aaaaaw~," Yellow snickered. "Innocent, innocent little love."

"Yes! Because we all know some day Blue and Green are going to have a hot one night stand!" Purple teased. "Now that you mention it, I don't mind us getting together either, Yellow."

"You guys can take care of that after we finish our goal."

The single static-y screen suddenly flickered to life, showing nothing but black. I gasped. Had He been listening to us acting like fools all this time? Pink had already jumped ahead of everyone else in the shocked state. "I'm terribly sorry, Black, it won't happen again."

He was quiet for a while, probably examining all of our reactions. Black had told us that he was the only one that knew who all seven of us were. I made sure to sit up straight, eyes focused on his screen and only his screen. However, I could still hear Pink's shallow breathing, and a few times where Blue's breath hitched—probably saw an animal or something.

"I'm not disappointed in you." And indeed, he certainly didn't sound disappointed. He said all of the next words slowly, making sure that they were loaded with pride. "I love you. All of you. I'm very proud of you. But however…" I flinched. I knew what was coming next. "It seems like one of you has…failed me."

I could feel everyone's eyes flickering to the green screen—the one that I didn't have. "Yes, Black," I finally gathered enough courage to say. "I have failed you. I did not succeed in completely disposing of Russia. I will take the full punishment." Yellow inhaled sharply.

Black was quiet for a while. Hell, everyone was quiet. I tried to keep my eyes on His screen, but the blackness…the complete _emptiness_ of it seemed to almost swallow me whole. I couldn't help giving a shudder that he most certainly saw. "You know I don't enjoy punishing my children, Green," He said, sounding unhappy. "But…would you like for me to discipline you?"

"No, Black, please." I blinked with surprise, my eyes flickering up to the White screen. "Green…deserves a second chance. Because this is only our second attack. Someone…would have made the mistake later on, anyways. So Black…please…can we…let Green by without punishment?"

Black pondered this for only a few seconds. "Of course, White. You know I would much rather prefer it if I didn't have to punish any of my loves. But Green…" I stiffened. "Please…tell me that you will dispose of Russia-chan after a while…" I relaxed. That wasn't hard.

"Of course, Black."

"Good." Black now sounded happy, like He had just heard news about Christmas coming early. "Great!" He suddenly burst out laughing, the happy sound echoing in my room. I noticed a sharp inhale come from Blue, almost as if Black had scared him with His laugh. I didn't see what was so scary about it—I sort of liked it. "Now, down to business!

"You all know that since I called you here, I have something important to tell all of you! As it stands, I'm aware of three nations, mainly Germany, Italy, and Japan, that are trying to find out who each of you are. And of course…I can't have the identities of my children revealed, since that would cause all of you to be killed…" Black trailed off, sounding furious that someone would dare touch His 'children'. I couldn't help feel a rush of happiness. I couldn't believe that someone could ever like me enough to treat me as their child. It just seemed too good to be true. "So here's what I'm thinking now.

"I, of course, know who all of you are. However, I'd really appreciate it if you guys start being a little more careful. I think we all know that White left a few very telltale clues lying around, but since it was our first killing, I think we did very good. From now on the killings will have to be done in a way that won't leave much evidence. Just so that you all can stay safe, okay~?"

"Understood," I said almost immediately. The others followed, all of us only milliseconds apart. Because we most certainly did not want to disappoint Black.

"Wonderful!" Black gave another childish giggle, His modified voice tinkling out like a small baby's, unlike ours that sounded like computer automated voices. "Now, on to another thing…you guys know that I know who you are. But of course, you don't know who all of the other killers are. For instance, Blue doesn't know who Pink is, correct?"

"No," Blue and Pink answered almost automatically.

Black gave a small sound of approval. "See? So therefore, I think you should start trying to find out who the other killers are as well...if you want to survive. That way, if one of you is ever under suspicion, there will be someone else in the sidelines to save you." I blinked, confused. So I had to try and find out who the other killers were? But…

"Excuse me, Black, but why can't you just tell us yourself?" Yellow's voice made clear all of our thoughts. "If you told us now who all of the others that we're communicating with are, then that would save some time and also be much easier for us to help each other. We might accidentally alert that detective trio when we're trying to find one another."

"True, Yellow," Black said, sounding proud that one of His killers had quickly come to that conclusion. "However, I have the feeling that if you do not put enough effort into finding the other killers, then you are not worth my time. But, if you are careless in your efforts and alert the innocent nations, then I will have to scold you for letting shame fall onto the names of _my_ nations. I know that you are much smarter than those _other_ countries." Finally, a tone other than pride crossed into Black's voice. It was one of disgust—of disapproval. He despised the nations that didn't have enough guts to join Him.

"We will do our best, Black," Purple said quietly. "We _will_ make you proud."

"I wish from the bottom of my heart that you will, my lovely children," Black said, the edge completely disappearing from His voice. He once more sounded like a very protective parent. "And speaking about making me proud, Yellow, isn't the next victim yours?"

Yellow gave a bark of laughter that everyone heard. I couldn't help cringing slightly. Unlike His laugh, Yellow's laugh was more rough and startled me more easily. "Yes, of course! And how much fun it's going to be~!"

~*~-~*~

"Are you sure that you're okay by yourself, China?" Taiwan asked hesitantly, straining to get the bags out of the car. It was midnight, and the stars were twinkling like there was no tomorrow. Hong Kong scolded Korea for dropping a bag so violently, demanding him to go back down and pick it up again.

China sat there, staring at his house rather blankly. It looked…too empty. It looked barren. He didn't want to go in. He didn't want to be anywhere _near_ here. When the doctors said that he could go home, he had expected _home_ home, as in Ivan's home. But of course, it took him a while to remember that Ivan was still in a coma (China's arms clenched tighter around himself at the mere thought) and that he wouldn't be home. From there, it was safe to assume that China thought the best solution for that situation would just be to go back to his _own_ house.

He just didn't remember it looked this vacant.

Someone tapped on the car window. China jumped. "Sorry, but you should get out before you get cold," Hong Kong said quietly, pulling open the door. The chilly breeze immediately wrapped itself around China like a cold blanket, making the elder nation sneeze. Hong Kong sighed, reaching into the front seat to pull out a blanket. "Please take good care of yourself. The last thing we need right now is for you to get a cold."

"I…I want to see Ivan~aru…" China muttered faintly, allowing Hong Kong to wrap the blanket around him. "I…need to see if he's okay…" Hong Kong frowned slightly, watching as Taiwan opened China's front door with her spare key.

"Don't let Korea hear you say that," Hong Kong said quietly, glancing quickly at his brother, who was lugging a few bags of luggage they had gotten from Russia's house a few hours ago. After all, considering the fact China practically _lived_ over there, a lot of his necessary items of survival had been over at Russia's house. It didn't take them long to go from there and back. "And after all, the only visitors allowed around Russia at the moment are his family, and I'm pretty sure that you don't want to get near Belarus in this condition."

"China, I'll just leave your stuff in the hallway, okay?" Taiwan yelled from inside the house, poking her head out. China forced himself to smile and nod slightly, despite the fact that all he wanted to do was curl up in a little ball and sleep the rest of his life away.

Korea tossed the last bag out of the backseat, and then grabbed all of the luggage and started dragging them up the walk. China couldn't even bother to tell him to stop towing his cargo—the stones would wear away at the cloth bags. Hong Kong just gently prodded China in the back, signaling that he should be moving forward.

China stumbled up the path after Korea, Hong Kong trailing behind him to make sure that he didn't trip up or down the steps. Taiwan was already in the kitchen, the lights on, and Korea quickly shuffled in to join her, not even sparing China one glance. "Korea…doesn't like me~aru."

Hong Kong looked over at his brother. China had his hair down and looked pale and frightened for the first time in his life. Of course China had felt mild fear before, but never had he ever felt so completely _alone_. Hong Kong felt his eyes stray downwards. Was what Korea said true? Were they really that easily replaceable by Russia? "Korea likes you," Hong Kong found himself saying. "It's just those teenage hormones. It's getting to his head."

"Hey I heard that!" Korea stuck his head out of the door, glaring slightly at Hong Kong, who held the door open for China. Korea seemed at least a little more humane with his brothers and sisters there, but… "I'm not deaf! Take that back!"

"He's right, you know," Taiwan sang cheerfully, placing a pot of water onto the stove. "You _are_ horribly immature. More so than most nations." Korea spun around and glared at Taiwan.

"Traitor!"

"Am _not_," the female said, sticking out her tongue at her brother. "Go away. Go back to your own house. We don't want you here." Korea looked completely betrayed for a moment, before realizing that Taiwan had been joking. China slowly sat down on a chair in the kitchen. For some reason, the chatter in the air and the bright lit room against the dark contrast outside didn't make him feel cozy—it made him feel tired.

"Don't fight. You're too loud," Hong Kong drawled mercilessly. Korea merely stuck out his tongue at the thick-browed nation, who rolled his eyes up at the ceiling as a reply. Taiwan glanced at the two of them, laughed, and then came and sat down at the table. China drew his blanket even closer around him.

"I'm not loud! That America is the loud one. He never shuts up, and that's why everyone's always pissed off at him!" Korea declared, pumping his fist into the air.

"Everyone's always pissed off at you too."

"What did I ever do to you guys?! Japan's the one that always gets messed up in those Westerner's businesses!"

"That's because the _wài guó rén _are practically in control of the world as of now," Taiwan said, frowning. "We really don't have much power, except for Japan. He's always talking to them and hanging out with them, so he's doing pretty well. China is too, aren't you, China?"

China didn't answer.

Hong Kong shot a glance at China, and then turned to his siblings. "Guys. Let's go," he said, walking over to the stove and making sure to turn off the burner. Taiwan and Korea looked at him with confusion, before glancing over at China. The elder nation looked like he was going to nod off at any moment.

"Sounds good to me," Korea said immediately. "And for the record, _I_ talk with those other nations too!"

"Yes, but you're just a nuisance," Hong Kong said, steering Korea out of China's house. Korea then replied by yelling something out loud that sounded vaguely like it had something to do with a female dog. Taiwan looked at them and laughed, stopping by China's side for a few moments before she followed them.

"Make sure you actually get into bed tonight, okay?" Taiwan said, helping China off of the chair. "Falling asleep at the table will make it easier for you to get a cold." China couldn't argue, so he just nodded silently and started trudging up the stairs, hearing Taiwan close the front door with a click.

The hallways, unlike the kitchen, were dark and ominous. China actually preferred it that way. As of now, he could see no reason why the world should be happy. But he was probably being too selfish—after all, the world most certainly did not revolve around him. However, the dark made it too hard to see, so China turned on all of the lights on the way to his bedroom, leaving a path of luminosity behind him.

China opened the door to his bedroom, walked in, closed it, turned on the lights, spun around…

And gasped.

Because on the wall facing the door, a few words were written. Now, if they were normal words, then China would probably have no problem with them. But, the words were written with something dark red. _Blood_. The words were large, filling up all of the wall, and seemed to glisten teasingly in the new light, casting the smell of death into the air. They were freshly painted too, because small trails where the liquid slid down the wall met the carpet, staining the white. China forced himself to take deep breaths, not to pass out, and than began reading. It was a poem.

_A veil of darkness blankets the sky  
As Death on sable wings fly high  
A shadowy figure of reputed gloom  
A frightful vision of impending doom_

_For a catastrophic storm is brewing  
While Men in slumber's bliss lie dreaming  
Blissfully ignorant of what is to be  
The end of all humanity_

_A minute before the Midnight hour  
The darkle sky unleashes its power  
Rain of brimstones in the night  
Showers the earth in tumult light_

_The Baptism of fire now begins  
Cleansing the Earth of its mortal sins  
And as the lands lay charred and burning  
Scythe in hand, Death watches, patiently waiting_

_For soon it will be the time of Reaping  
And the soul of man He will be taking  
Gathering the essence from His human maize  
A Harvest of Souls in the end of days_

And below that, was another message.

_Hello, China. Guess who's next?_

China gave a choking gasp and slid down the door, his fingers reaching down and turning off the light switch. The room was once more covered with darkness.

* * *

**O.O CHINAAAAA! **

**The poem is The End of Days by Erwin Quah.**

**XD Remember to vote in the poll, and see you guys next time!**


	10. Jack the Ripper

**Here's Lucky! XD No, we haven't died. Sorry about not updating in so long.**

**Okay, a little note to all of you guys. I'm going to be making a little visit to my hometown in China, which means that you guys have Angel all to yourselves. :D Do what you will with her. **

**To the lovely people who reviewed:**

**marmoki, Miss Chelle, SheWhoRunsWithScissorz, luvjOi, Anne.k3, kenpachi-sama, hurleysuki, mankinfan, Tobi- That's What They Call Me, koholint, pmpatg, HandInTheCookieJar, AnimeDutchess, EmoLollipop, A WILD ANON APPEARS, greenpanic6, Thorro, ninjafox369, AlessandraSanchez, Kathy R. Edgeworth, KaruKyan, Plumville Amy, WOKgeotobi, silver windflame, Verocat, mangarox14, xYukii, RingoNeko 201, and Cry-Wolf-And-Sing. Love you guys to bits!**

**As my last chappie in a month, this is rather long. So grab some popcorn and settle down in a comfy chair. :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. If I did, Nussia would be cannon. :D**

* * *

"Hmmm~"

"Hmmmmmmm."

"Hmmm…hn."

"Nnn…ah ha!"

"You found something?" Germany cried immediately, causing Italy to jump slightly and give a startled yelp. Although yelling at the once more detective-garbed Italy was perhaps being a little rash, one had to consider the fact Ludwig had been dragged off his bed at six in the morning. It was now eleven. They arrived at Russia's house around nine, freaked out for an hour or so, and then went upstairs to the kitchen. Italy had been 'hmm'-ing and 'huh'-ing for the past thirty minuets. And for Ludwig it was pure torture.

He wasn't as good at this detective nonsense as Japan and Italy. They had turned out to be unbelievably invaluable—completely stunning almost every nation in their moments of genius. It made Germany feel uncharacteristically unimportant. He knew that Italy and Japan could do perfectly well without him—and he knew that they knew the same.

Germany secretly wondered why he had agreed to come here in the first place. Oh yes. Then he remembered. He didn't have a choice. When a hungry German smells wurst first thing in the morning, it was more of an impulsive action to follow it, even when he was still half asleep.

Even when the wurst happened to be dangling from a fishing pole that was conveniently held by an Italian.

Yes, the world was such a cruel place…

"Waa~, Germany, you scared me!" Italy trembled for a bit, before realizing that he wasn't going to get any sympathy from Germany, and then calmed down and sighed. "Yeah…I guess you could say that I found something."

"Well, what is it?" Germany saw nothing interesting near the sink Italy was hovering around. It just seemed like an ordinary sink. Sure, there was a rather large spider sitting on a newly formed web, but there seemed to be nothing of importance. "What did you find?"

Italy was quiet for a while, before bending down and picking up a frying pan that was lying at the edge of a countertop. Germany's eyes practically buldged out of his head. Of all things to examine closely, it had to be a _frying pan_?! "Japan…sit in that chair, please."

No response.

"Japan?" Germany turned as well to see Japan leaning against the cupboards, his eyes far-off and glazed, almost as if they were gazing at one of England's imaginary lands. "Japan!" The Asian man blinked when Germany snapped his fingers right in front of his face.

"O-Oh. _Gomenasai_, Doitsu-sama, Italia-san. I…just spaced out for a few moments. My apologies for being a nuisance."

"Ve~_Nihon_. It seems like you have a lot on your mind. What's the matter?" Italy leaned forward, examinating Japan with his magnifying glass held in front of his right eye, making it look gigantic. "Is there something that you'd like to tell us? Oh! Wasn't your spying on America supposed to take place last night? How did it go?"

Japan hesitated, and then spoke slowly. Germany's brow furrowed as he stared at Japan. Was he…trying to hide something? "The stal—_spying_, turned out to be very…beneficial. It…opened my eyes to America's current predicament and it rather…_intrigued_ my desire to know more…so…I…Idecidedtogobacktoday." Japan said the last bit in a horrible rush, his face reddening slightly as he saw Germany and Italy's startled glances.

"W-Wait." Germany was thoroughly confused. "What…did you find out about America?"

Japan opened his mouth as if to answer, and then closed it and looked up at the ceiling for a while. "He…he's not guilty. There's close to no chance about him being a killer. There's…there's…there's…"

"There's what, Japan?" Italy leaned in even closer with his magnifying glass, now practically looming over Japan. Germany blinked when he saw Italy's eyes widening in excitement, his smile growing in a slightly evil way. "Japa~n…stop skirting around the question…"

"_G-Gomen_, Italia-san, but I didn't get any evidence worth noting," Japan stammered. It seemed like Germany wasn't the only nation that was affected by Italy's rapid mood-changes.

"Oh~? Well…does that mean that you've simply stopped serving your purpose then, Japan~? Why don't you sit down for a moment…" And then, completely ignoring Japan's slight protests, Italy steered the Asian into one of the chairs. Germany had to admit that he was completely confused with whatever the hell Italy was doing.

"Italy…?"

"Italia-san…I…I don't think…"

And to Japan and Germany's complete surprise, Italy burst into tears.

"Y-You hate me, don't you, Japan?" Italy wailed.

"W-Wait, what?" Japan seemed as perplexed as Germany was. At least he wasn't alone now. Japan made a move as if to get up off the chair, but was promptly pushed down again by Italy. The Italian looked down at the confused nation for a few more seconds, and then promptly burst into tears yet again.

"You do hate me!" Italy wailed, covering his face with his hands. He started shaking his head back and forth as if he were consoling himself. "You do hate me! You want me gone!"

"N-No, Italia-san, I very much like—"

"I don't want to hear it!" Italy lifted his head, staring at Germany with the real tears that were starting to pour from his eyes. _What the hell…?_ "I'm leaving! B-Because I hate you too!" Italy spun around and stomped out the door, slamming it loudly in the process.

…Silence…

"I-Is Italia-san's mentality okay…?" Japan sounded horribly tentative, and his brow was scrunched up in his efforts to realize what he did wrong in the first place. Germany merely sighed, patting Kiku lightly on the shoulder. He always wondered when Italy would finally cra—

"So do you guys see?" Germany and Japan gave a startled yelp as the door opened again, Italy's head poking back in. The tears were gone, his eyes suddenly happy and wide again. His perpetual smile was back, along with that joyful little glow that seemed to surround him. Japan, this time, very promptly jumped up from his seat and bowed.

"I-I'm very sorry, Italia-san, for anything that I have ever done to deeply offend you! I will take full responsibility for my actions, and I promise that it will not happen again!" Italy, however, merely giggled before running forward and giving Kiku a big hug.

"Aww, Japan, I didn't mean it!" Italy laughed. "I was just trying to give myself a vague picture about what happened between Russia and China!" Germany blinked. So this is what Italy thinks happened?

"Italy…how do you know that it was a fight that had them separated?" Germany asked out loud. Italy smiled, his arms still wrapped around a completely red Japan, rocking gently back and forth.

"Oh, I'm just guessing," Italy cocked his head slightly, still grinning innocently. "I mean, Russia and China are inseparable~! So I was thinking, the only way that the killers would ever get them apart is to wait for them to have a fight! So after China storms out the room, the killer is free to come and attack Russia!"

Germany wondered faintly if Italy knew how stupid that just sounded. "Italy…no one can attack Russia, get away, and still be breathing," he rattled off in a slight monotone. Italy merely shook his head, as if he were disappointed in Germany's deducing skills. He let go of Japan and then walked over to Germany, leaning back on the balls of his feet.

"Ger~many, I already asked the doctors that examined Russia a few questions," Italy said cheerfully, cocking his head rather cutely, making Germany blush slightly. "Russia had to be attacked sometime around the morning. He was probably bludgeoned by something thin before he was completely gassed." Germany winced at that particular term—it brought back rather unhappy memories about Hitler and a few other occurrences.

"Wait…is that why you were looking at the frying pan, Italia-san?" Japan asked, smoothing down his clothes until they looked completely untouched once more. "You think the killer used that to attack Russia after China left?" Italy smiled widely and clapped his hands.

"Exactly!" He danced over to the frying pan and picked it up, waving it rather frighteningly in Germany's face, making the larger nation back up a bit. "I think Russia and China got in a fight, China left the room with the burner still on, and since Russia's isn't a morning person, he probably fell asleep! Which would make it easy for the killer to burst into the room…well, burst quietly, that is. And then, he takes the pan and hits Russia with the handle thing!"

Italy held the pan so the handle was faced downwards, and then viciously chopped towards the ground. "And then…and then…the killer made sure that the pot over-boiled, and he ran away!" Italy dropped the pan where he stood and made a mad dash over to the door, standing at the frame and waving his hands frantically. "I think that's what happened!"

"Yes, that…or…" Japan looked up, his mouth pulling down into a faint frown. "Or maybe China-san's faking it."

"What? What do you mean? That China got himself hurt on purpose so that it would seem like…" Germany's voice trailed off slightly, the last few words tainted in what appeared to be horror. Italy's face also fell, his eyes staring off into space as he started pondering this thought.

"China…it would make sense if it was anyone else." Italy seemed to have lost his happiness-high, and he seemed to slump slightly. "But…why would China want to try and kill Russia…? We all know that…that…those two are 'together'…so…" Japan's face puckered slightly as he started sucking on his bottom lip, thinking hard.

"If…if China-san did it…then he wouldn't have to leave the room at all," Japan said, looking up at the ceiling of the room. "He would just have to wait until Russia-san falls asleep, and then all he would have to do is hit him on the head and make sure that the water boils over, closing himself in the room at the same time. And right before he felt like he was going to pass out, all he had to do was call that dog…Kitty, and then have him find someone, drag them over, and make it look like China's completely innocent."

Germany tensed when he saw the other two nations look at him expectantly, almost as if he were expected to take a side. "Ne, ne, Germany, who do you think is right~?" Italy asked, his eyes looking up at Germany anxiously. "You don't really think that China is guilty, right? Right? _Right_?"

Japan frowned. "I never completely confirmed my thoughts on the fact China-san attacked Russia-san. We need to ask the local residents and see if there were any witnesses that might have spotted China-san leaving or entering the house. Until then, it's merely a guess at how Russia got attacked. Nothing more."

"But Japan~! Even just _accusing_ China is sort of—"

_Ring…ring…ring…_

"Pardon me," Japan said immediately, walking out of the room. Italy frowned and cocked his head.

"Why does it seem like Japan gets all of the important phone calls~?" he whined, pouting up at Germany. The blond kept his gaze fixated on the door, where he could hear Japan's faint speech. It seemed like he was talking in…in…? "Hey, _Doitsu_…is Japan talking in Chinese?"

"I think so," Germany said, dropping his voice lower as Japan's took on a slightly more panicky tone. "Do you think its news from China?" Italy frowned, his brow creasing.

"If…if it is news, then it's obviously not good news…so does…does that meant that…was China attacked?" Germany noticed how Italy's voice seemed to climb higher and higher in panic, ending the last word as a squeak. "Oh please…please…don't let anyone else be attacked…I can't stand it if someone else dies…Ludwig…make sure no one dies, okay? Okay?!"

"Okay, okay, just stop shouting so loudly," Germany muttered. "I'm not going to be able to help anyone if I can't hear them screaming, and you're completely bursting my eardrums."

"O-Oh, sorry Ludwig," Italy said sheepishly, cringing in on himself. He looked so embarrassed that Germany felt himself sighing again, his hand rasing automatically to pat the small Italian on the head.

"It's fine…"

_It's fine…_

_It's fine…_

Japan burst into the room, breathing heavily. "Germany! Italy! Please, we have to go to China's house! There's…there's…"

"An attack?" Germany asked, his throat tightening.

"N-No…there are…death threats…written in blood."

Italy paled.

_It wasn't fine_.

_Nothing was fine_. And for some reason, a voice started echoing around his head.

_Hey Germany…? Germany…? Guess who's next…?_

~*~-~*~

Germany and Japan walked ahead of Italy. "Wait…wait for meee~" They didn't pay any attention. Italy pouted and attempted to catch up.

_Crunch_.

Italy looked down frowning. What had he just stepped on? However, when he saw what it was, he promptly froze.

A sequin.

A green sequin.

~*~-~*~

Belarus dug in her heels and crossed her arms, clenching her jaw.

"Please, Belarus~aru. Can you let me see him for just a few moments?" China begged, looking at the nation who was standing right in the middle of the doorway to Russia's room. China needed to see him. Especially after what had happened last night.

After he had discovered the message, China proceeded to collapse onto the ground and crawl out of the bedroom, silently moving to the couch. He completely surprised himself when he didn't cry, although the prickling in his eyes, a warning of tears that were about to pour, was certainly there. And after a while of that particular discomfort, China had actually _wanted_ to cry, which was a horrible sign of weakness in his opinion.

He had spent that night on the couch and woke up very early in the morning, drenched in sweat. He had felt strangely weakened, almost as if he was supporting another country. _That~aru_, China supposed, _Must be my government helping Ivan's~aru. If he's alive, then that means they'd need help, right?_ And so China clung onto that one hope that he might still be able to assist Ivan, even if it was against his own will. But it wasn't like he would have done any different.

China had quickly called Japan to let him know that he was out, asked him if he could watch the house for him, and told him not to go into the bedroom. Of course, Japan being Japan, had quickly asked what exactly was in the bedroom. China had managed to dodge around his questions for a total of a few seconds before he was forced to spill the truth. Japan's voice had immediately started climbing as he started to panic, a bad habit that he took on when he was a kid. He then demanded for China to get out of the house so he, Italy, and Germany could take a look at the message.

So that was why China was standing in front of Ivan's hospital room, trying (in vain) to find someway around the terrifying Belarus.

_I hate Mondays~aru_.

"No." Belarus's firm voice pressed down in a final sort of tone. "The doctors said that Ivan is to get some rest, so that means that there aren't supposed to be any visitors today."

"He's in a coma~aru! He's got all the rest that he needs!" China cried out before he could help it. Belarus's eyes narrowed slightly, questioning China's sanity to even try and test her. And China, accordingly, gulped. That at least seemed to earn him a little bit of sympathy from Belarus, which was something angels would fly down from the heavens and sing hallelujah for.

"China, you look like you need some rest too. Go home." China only seemed to pale even more when he thought of the bloody message on his wall, and quickly shook his head. What little patience Belarus had for China abruptly evaporated.

"Then leave." She very helpfully pointed at the end of the hallway with her hand. It would have been a completely innocent gesture if she hadn't been holding a blade. Unfortunately, with the said blade, it wasn't exactly very persuading. It was more terrifying.

"I have to see—"

"Ivan, yes, I know," Belarus sighed. She shook her blade slightly, making China cringe in fear. "You can see Ivan when he wakes up."

China's eyes widened. Was Belarus serious? "T-That could take days~aru! Weeks~aru! Months~aru! I'm not waiting that long!" Belarus very calmly rolled her eyes.

"So?" She prodded at China's chest with her free hand. "Just think of the time like a lot of seconds—it'll go by faster. And besides," she lowered her voice slightly, "Don't think that you're the only one that's going through this. You think I'm not worried whatsoever for my brother? Yeah. Fat chance. So stop being selfish. Ukraine's worried too and bawling her eyes out every ten seconds. You're not family, so don't bother trying to get in before your time. Know your place."

China shook slightly. The speech somehow reminded China of what Korea had said to him earlier. "I don't care if I'm not family~aru. I _want _to see Ivan. Just for a few moments~aru, it won't do any harm." If there was something that China learned, it was that you had to be patient when you were dealing with children. Of course, children usually don't up and point blades at their elders, but he'd make an exception here.

Belarus shook her head. "You must be deaf with old age. I'll make this simpler to understand. Get. Out."

China heard the wise voice in his head tell him to run away and live another day, but unfortunately for the wise little voice, China quite frankly had it. He hadn't seen Ivan for a total of a day and a half, and that was as long as he should have to wait, in his opinion. So…"No~aru."

There was a clattering from inside the room.

"Ivan~aru," China gasped, as both he and Belarus charged into hospital torture chamber without a second thought. Well, actually there was quite a bit of pushing, considering the fact that Belarus really wanted to get in there first. So therefore there were some thoughts, but that was beside the point.

_Ivan's awake, Ivan's awake, Ivan's awake!_

How very wrong they were.

You see, the clattering sound had not been made by the said nation waking up and promptly destroying the hospital room like Belarus and China predicted. The sound, amazingly enough, was caused by a much, _much_ smaller person. Who just so happened to have fallen off the bed and was sitting on the ground in a daze.

Stark naked.

After Belarus and China managed to push themselves into the room, silence dominated for a few moments as the two nations stared at the one small boy, and the one small boy stared right back at them. Both parties seemed to be in a permanent state of shock. After all, it wasn't everyday that one burst into their brother/lover's hospital room to see a naked little boy sitting on the ground. And it also wasn't everyday that two people randomly jump into a room when you just wake up with close to no memories whatsoever.

However, with Belarus's fast recovering rate, she was the one who spoke first. "Who the hell are you?!" China had to praise the volume of her voice. She certainly did better than he would have. The boy stared right back at her. China shuddered slightly at the emotionless gaze he held. It reminded him of Japan.

The boy looked up at Belarus with wide, impassive violet eyes. He looked incredibly unhealthy and brittle, dark rings adorning the deep hollows of his eyes while stringy white hair hung lifelessly in his face. All in all, he looked like a child version of Russia--if the child version of Russia were to survive several famines and not sleep for a week. He was anything but pleasant to look at, with his protruding ribs and gangly, short limbs. Even now China was starting to get uncomfortable. He knew Ivan had looked like this several times before when he was a child, and seeing such a replica of the time was upsetting.

"…Who're you?" the boy countered. His voice sounded rather small and fragile, as if it was never used before. A loud hacking cough ended his sentence, strangely enough making China's heart tear. It reminded him of the time that Hong Kong had that horrible cold…

Unfortunately, it seemed Belarus certainly didn't feel any sympathy whatsoever for the boy. "How did you get into this room?"

The boy completely ignored her, and instead turned to stare at China for a few moments. The elder nation found himself shifting slightly under that piercing gaze, feeling rather sad when he saw that there was heavy distrust in those eyes. "…You're China, correct?"

"How do you know my name~aru?" China asked automatically. Belarus's eyes flickered from China to the boy, and then back to China. She then narrowed them.

"You know him?"

"N-No~aru! And please put those knives away! They're scaring me~aru."

Belarus didn't move. The small boy didn't either, and started staring at her instead. Belarus immediately glared right back. China gulped, feeling almost as if he was trespassing in some sort of sacred ritual where two people needed to kill each other with their glares. "H-Hey, let's all get along together…okay~aru…?"

Belarus didn't even flinch. "…You're a new country, right?"

The small boy responded with a cough, and then said in his tiny voice, "The Republic of New Russia, pleasure to meet you. Did anyone ever tell you that if you keep on pointing those knives at people, you're not going to have any friends?" Belarus's eye twitched.

"I don't like him," she declared at once, turning back to China and promptly ending the staring contest. "Let's just kill him now and be done with it. We don't need another country to make things worse in these fucking bad times."

"Cursing makes you sound unintelligent," New Russia said blankly, apparently unaware that he wasn't supposed to butt in on conversations. Especially ones in which an angry female nation was participating in. "If you don't stop now, other people will think that you're mentally unstable in some way." Belarus closed her eyes and exhaled forcefully, a pulsating spasm starting in her right eyebrow.

"Fuck off. I wasn't talking to you."

"For example, I now have the idea that you are a very primitive sort of person with rather large breasts. You also apparently have a very short temper and frightening personality. I'd say that you don't have any close friends at all."

"I said _fuck off_."

"And the most persistent word in your vocabulary seemed to be the 'f' word. Perhaps that means that you are experiencing certain signs of sexual tension with someone else?"

That did it.

"I am going to fucking kill this little son of a bitch!" Belarus roared, jumping forward. China gave a squeak and managed to catch her arms before she impaled New Russia with one of her blades. Who, he might add, finally showed some emotion by flinching and closing his eyes when he thought that the angry female was going to attack him. "Let go of me, you bastard China! I'm going to show this little pipsqueak exactly who has that fucking 'frightening personality'!"

"You, obviously," New Russia said, recovering from his brief moment of weakness. "My God you're a rather frightening nation, aren't you?"

"Like hell I am!"

"Belarus, calm down~aru! He's a new nation, he doesn't know anything about us~aru! So let's just put the knife away and talk this over, okay~aru?"

"You—fucking—let go of me! Damn it! I'm going to kill that little bastard! New Russia, don't you dare fucking move from there!"

"I'm not going anywhere, she-male."

"She-male?! You little bag of sh—"

"Aah~! Do I hear a damsel in distress? Don't worry, the hero will save you!" America violently burst through the door, striking a pose, while Canada meekly entered the room after him. It looked like he wanted to promptly turn around walk right back out after seeing what was going on in the loud room. America blinked at the scene before him. "Whoa. Who the heck is that? And what's wrong with Belarus?"

The small boy gave another cough. "I'm the Republic of New Russia, and the she-male is simply upset because of the fact that I pointed out a few flaws in her personality." China threw a desperate glance at Canada, who immediately went and helped China restrain Belarus, who seemed to only get angrier.

"I'm not a fucking she-male! And—dammit—LET GO OF ME!"

America rolled his eyes, completely ignoring Belarus. "Those names get longer every century, I swear," he muttered quietly to himself. After musing for a while, his eyes finally brightened, and he slammed a closed fist into his open palm. "I got it! I'll call you Nussia!" New Ru…sorry, _Nussia_ glared silently at America.

"It's _New Russia_."

America sighed comically, waving his hand dismissively as if he was brushing off a fly. "Sheesh. You're just like Iggy. Some of you guys are just too uptight about what other people call you…" And from there, America launched into a rant about how people needed to be more flexible about their names, which strangely enough morphed into _another_ rant about which fast-food restaurant was the best.

By the time America declared that KFC needed to stop deep frying so much (it was bad for your health…ha), Belarus, Canada, and China had already lost all interest in tearing Nussia to bits/stopping the angry she-male. Canada timidly removed his red sweatshirt, passing it to Nussia so the new nation would have something to wear. China smiled at seeing how the material pooled on the ground, even with Nussia wearing it. Canada seemed to notice the same. "America, he looks kinda like you when we were younger."

America stopped his rant just to bend down, gazing at the small, emotionless nation with curiosity. "Huh…he kinda does. Though he doesn't look too healthy." America poked Nussia's sallow cheek, which caused the small nation to raise an eyebrow. "Hey…those eyes…did'ja break off from Russia?"

"As suggested by my name, yes, I did," Nussia said, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.

Canada cringed. "How terrible to be born in the middle of a time like this. Nussia…are you financially stable? Do you need any help?" Nussia finally looked away from all of the other nations, gazing instead at his feet. China immediately frowned and sat down besides him, looking at the nation.

"I'm helping you~aru, aren't I?" Nussia didn't look at China in the eye, and instead nodded at the ground. So that explained the drained state that he woke up in. Though China had been helping Russia rebuild Moscow, he had also been sending aid to Nussia. Smiling, China pulled Nussia on his lap, feeling the small nation tense in his arms. It was like raising another little brother.

Another brother, another chance to make things right.

"Seriously?!" America bent forward, an eager glint in his eye. "Do you guys have McDonalds?! If not, I have to go over and build one immediately! How big do you want it to be? And I can help you hire some people and start a franchise over there too…" America apparently was very happy talking about the fast-food empire, and even pulled a notebook out of his bomber jacket and started writing down color schemes and value menus.

"My people can't afford much," Nussia warned. "I'll only be here until big brother Russia wakes up, then we'll be one again." He looked over his scrawny shoulder to stare at China. "My people won't be controlled by a forgien government. One that's communist no less."

"So, you're only part of Russia?" Canada asked.

"Yes, and only temporary, but I fear with the way things are going, I won't survive long," he managed to answer before coughing roughly.

"Hold on," Belarus ordered, her voice now threateningly even, a trait she obviously adopted from her older brother. "Canada, what are you and your ignoramus excuse for a sibling even doing here?"

"We just came to give Russia our best," America answered happily. "He's the best damn drinking buddy a guy could have and...he...he happens to be a great listener when the vodka sorta makes me a little more...open," America laughed nervously. "So I just want him to know that when he wakes up, the shots are on me." Canada gave a nervous smile as Belarus groaned.

Nussia seemed almost vaguely happy for a moment, and he relaxed slightly in China's arms. The elder nation grinned from his spot on the ground, watching as America sat down across from them, now blabbering about fries, Canada situated beside him. Belarus leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, staring intently at Nussia as if the small nation had done her a serious offence. China was just happy to have found one little peaceful eye of the storm in the recent chaotic events, and busied himself by playing with Nussia's snow white hair.

"You need to get it cut~aru," China found himself whispering, playing with a few lanky strands in front of Nussia's ear that stretched past his chin. Nussia simply frowned, and much to China's delight, snuggled even closer, apparently completely content to listen to America's delighted ramblings. "If your hair stretches past your face, then you'd just look like that jumped-up Frenchman."

"I think it looks kinda cute," Canada said smiling, gently petting Kumajirou who was reclining on his lap. He looked back up at China and Nussia, then smiled. "You two are so cute. Nussia, are you getting tired?"

China blinked and bent over Nussia to see the small boy's face. Sure enough, the lavender orbs were struggling to stay open, the dark circles beneath them adding to the boy's apparent exhaustion. Nussia looked up to see China looking at him and started to protest, "I'm not tired at all…America, keep talking…" America gave a small bark of laughter.

"Nope, Nussia, I think it's afternoon naptime," he grinned. Nussia actually seemed too tired to argue, and simply turned his face so it was buried in China's shirt.

"…Carry me."

"_Japan~aru, isn't it about time for bed?"_

_The small boy looked up from the table where he was drawing plans for a gigantic robot of some sort. He already looked as if he were about to fall flat on his face from exhaustion. China clucked with disapproval. "Japan~aru, bedtime. Come on. Before you catch a cold."_

_The small boy blinked rapidly in a sad attempt to keep his eyes open. "A…a few more moments…" And then Japan had completely surprised China by landing face-first on the table. The elder leapt towards the table, almost as if he was about to stop the smaller's face from meeting the tabletop, but it was too late. Japan sighed, admitting defeat. "…Fine…carry me…"_

Nussia pointedly held out his arms, waiting for China to respond in some way. The older nation smiled and jumped up, easily scooping up Nussia in his arms. "We're going home, okay~aru?" Canada smiled sadly when he saw China's genuine smile. America glanced at his twin from the corner of his eye.

"Have a safe trip," Belarus said softly from the corner. China nodded at her while Nussia simply muttered something quietly in Russian that made Belarus's eye twitch. "Get out before I change my mind about keeping him alive. Thank God he's only here until Russia wakes up." America gave a soft chortle.

"You seem really fond of him, Belarus," the blond said, smirking as he crossed his arms above his head. "You're not a pedophile, are you?" Belarus screamed something that should not be repeated at America while China stepped over America's outstretched legs, taking one more sad glance at Russia before he left the room.

_...I wish it was all of you coming home with me~aru..._

~*~-~*~

_November 17, 2012_

_Russia's capital Moscow was attacked, and all government leaders assassinated. The Chinese government immediately sent aid over to the area and obtained temporary control of the country, which was received with mixed feelings. Chinese citizens poured into Russia and helped with the reconstruction of the Russian capital, along with many other important cities and roads._

_However, there were a few citizens that were displeased that Russia was under China's control, and demanded that they solve the problem themselves, stating that, "Despite the rise and fall of time, Mother Russia will be able to survive on its own without being controlled by a communist government--temporary or otherwise." Unfortunately, these people were quickly outvoted by the majority who were terrified of falling into anarchy and happy with China's assistance. _

_The few people who were against China's temporary control of their land immediately banded together to form a new area around the city of St. Petersburg, called the Republic of New Russia, which they quickly demanded was their own temporary solution to Russia's near demise, claiming, "We are our own nation until Russia is out of China's hands and back under the control of Russians. When Russian leaders are elected and Moscow once again stands proud, we will be one again." However, the New Russians seemed to still receive support from the Chinese government, but there have been no reports of anything beyond that._

~*~-~*~

China gently laid Nussia on his couch, making sure to tuck a small blanket around him and draw the curtains so not much sun could get in. He knew from experience that if anything interrupted a child's nap, the world had some compensation to do. The worst out of all of his brothers was Korea—the poor thing went on a rampage when he was carelessly woken by his gardener.

China sat himself down on the couch, sighing as he pulled a book off the shelf and flipped over to the bookmark. However, just when he became comfortable, the phone rang.

Needless to say, China raced over to the hallway, snatching up the wireless receiver in the process. Throwing a hasty glance at Nussia, who had just shifted slightly, China stepped out into the hallway to answer the call. "Hello~aru?" he said, whispering into the receiver.

He frowned when no answer came out at fist, and a few uneven crackles of electricity were heard. Yao very nearly lost his patience and almost hung up, but an emotionless, voice-modified tone stopped him.

"Hello, China. Guess who?"

China hung up as a reflex. His pulse raced, his breath hitched. Of course he knew who it was. That same person had been the one who had completely ruined his bedroom wall. Taking deep breaths, China set down the receiver and walked slowly to the bathroom. Maybe if he splashed come cold water on his face…

China opened the door to the bathroom.

And just managed to bite back a scream.

_You hung up on me? That wasn't very nice._

_But at least you were smart enough to figure out who I am, correct? Well, I guess I should give you some points for that. However I am a little hurt by your lack of consideration, so I'm going to give you one more try._

_I'm calling your house again, and this time you better stay on the line._

…_Okay?_

Blood. Again. All over the walls. China lifted a trembling hand to his mouth, falling ungracefully on the floor when his legs buckled from under him. Bile rose in his throat as terror started engulfing him.

Here.

The killer was here.

The phone rang.

China ran to it this time, snatching it up. "W-Where are you~aru?"

The voice on the other end was the same as before—cold, emotionless, and computer generated. It gave a laugh. "Oh. You _are_ a good boy, aren't you? Well that's a comforting thought at least. Does that mean you got my message?" China gulped and nodded. "That's wonderful!"

China froze.

The killer saw him nod.

The killer could see him.

China cleared his throat, and managed to repeat his question, this time without stuttering. "Where are you~aru?"

The killer completely ignored the question. "It's not nice to call someone 'you' all the time, you know. You can call me Yellow." China closed his eyes, feeling as if he was going to faint. "Oh dear. Are you feeling all right? Are you going to faint? Maybe you should go lay down with your dear Nussia if you're that tired." China's blood froze.

"H-How do you know what I'm doing~aru?"

"Oh! Simple. Cameras. I hid them in places. Hmm…do you know, how about we play a little game? It's called 'find and destroy the cameras'! What do you say?"

"…"

"Oh dear. Do you have no opinion of your own? Fine then, what I say will go, since you seem not to have a mind. Let's start the game!"

"…I don't want to play~aru."

"Hnn~? Oh, you don't? Well, you have no say in it anyways, so we're going to play!" Yellow gave a cruel laugh. "I'll give you the camera locations, and then you have to destroy them, okay?"

China's throat tightened. "I'm not doing it~aru."

Yellow sighed. "God. As stubborn as ever, I see. Well, do you want your little Nussia to disappear then? Along with your darling Ivan?"

"…You wouldn't dare hurt them~aru."

"Fine, I admit, I'm a little frightened of Ivan. But he shouldn't be too hard to take out when he's still in a coma. And since you probably already guessed that I'm in your house, little defenseless Nussia won't be a challenge at all. One stab would be all it takes." Yellow gave a cruel giggle. "I wonder how much blood the little guy would loose before he completely…_disappeared_."

China slid down the wall, sitting down on the hardwood flooring and taking deep breaths, closing his eyes. Finally, he raised the phone once more to his ear. "…Fine. I'll play~aru. What do you want me to do~aru?"

China could practically feel the killer's wicked smile. "Excellent! Well, first go to the kitchen." China closed his eyes, willing himself to start walking. He crossed the hallway and entered the kitchen, looking around. "That was fast," the killer praised. "Now, do you see the scarf hanging off the countertop?"

China felt his stomach plummet.

"_You're cold," Russia said, frowning. China rolled his eyes, still walking briskly over hills snow, not giving a care in the world that he was freezing and it felt like his fingers were going to fall off. He didn't bother answering. Russia frowned further. "You can't trick me. I can see you shivering." _

"_That doesn't matter~aru," China said, shaking his head, willing himself not to wrap his arms around himself to keep at least a little body warmth. Russia frowned. He didn't deny it. "And besides, there's only a few more minuets until we get to England's house."_

_Russia raised an eyebrow. "An hour."_

"_Isn't that what I said~aru?" Russia sighed and rolled his eyes to the heavens. _

_China blinked, surprised, when he felt something heavy land on his shoulders. "What the…?" A few more moments of confusion and then… "Oh, Ivan~aru, you don't have to do that…" China struggled to take off the scarf that was lying around his shoulders. Russia shook his head and enclosed China's wrists with his fingers, efficiently stopping him._

"I weaved a camera into it," Yellow said cheerfully. "If you don't figure out a way to completely destroy it, then the camera will still be there. And Russia and Nussia will still be in danger. So make your choice." China hesitated. "Oh dear. I didn't pick a _valuable_ item, did I?" Yellow gave a cruel laugh.

China gulped and walked over, picking up the item with his free hand. He could hear Yellow sighing on the other line and tapping something rather impatiently. "Hurry up, love," Yellow sighed. "I don't have all day you know." China's fingers trembled, the scarf shaking along with it.

"Let's hurry, shall we?"

China walked over to the stove. He turned it on.

"_You need it more than I do."_

Yao held the scarf over the fire.

"That's it…just a little more…"

China squeezed his eyes shut.

"_O-Oh. T-Thank you then~aru_."

"Oh, don't wimp out on me now, China~!"

…And dropped the scarf.

It caught immediately. The fire quickly spread until the entire tan fabric was soon burning. The scarf fell into the light, almost as if it was dying itself. There were a few sparks and a stench of burning metal. China gave a cry and turned off the stove, grabbing a cup filled with water and tossing it at the flame. It went out.

"See, that wasn't so bad, now was it?" Yellow said, sighing lightly with happiness. "That was actually pretty fun, don't you agree, love?"

"…Fun~aru. Right."

"Definitely very, _very_ fun. Let's move on now…shall we…?" Yellow giggled. "Upstairs. Go on, love, let's go to your room. And I also don't feel very secure right now—I can't see you. But I will know when you leave the room, and exactly _where_ you leave. I have cameras everywhere, so don't even try me, darling."

China took one step. He was glad when his leg didn't automatically buckle from underneath him. He already felt completely disembodied, almost as if he was already half-passed out. China took another step. This one wasn't as unbalanced. And step by step, China slowly made his way up the stairs. Of course Yellow made objections, and even went as far as to start listing all of the nations in the world in alphabetical order.

"Camaroon…oh! We're there! _Finally_!" Yellow didn't bother hiding his irritation. "Lord, it took you too long! What are you, part snail?" China didn't answer. He didn't trust his ability to not sound like a child hitting puberty. When Yellow found that China wasn't going to answer, he sighed again. "You're not so fun anymore, are you, love?" Yellow sounded disappointed. "Oh well. This one will be the last one for today, then. We'll play more tomorrow, okay?"

China nodded, numbly.

"Lovely!" Yellow laughed. "Now that we're in the bedroom, I want you to look at the dresser." China pivoted, no longer feeling any fear or any pain. He was quite frankly sick of this game. It didn't matter to him any longer. He just wanted to get out of this nightmare. "Do you see the picture? Of course you do. You need to break that."

It was a picture of the only time he could get Japan, Hong Kong, Korea, and Taiwan to smile at the same time. They were genuine smiles as well. China stood in the middle, beaming at the camera with his siblings flanking him. Russia stood behind him, a true smile gracing his features for once.

Strangely enough, China didn't feel afraid anymore. And on a more frightening note, he seemed not to care either. He simply grabbed the picture frame and tossed it to the ground, stomping violently on it. The glass shattered, a few pieces digging into his foot. China stomped on it again. The corner of Hong Kong's face crinkled, along with Korea's ahoge. China felt something similar to anger growing inside of him, and this time he brought his foot down harder than ever, completely snapping the frame in half.

"There we go…now do you see how _lonely_ they made you?" Yellow murmured softly, his voice seeming to drill right into the vulnerable China's mind. China, at that time, didn't notice that the voice was no longer computer generated. If he had bothered to listen closely, he might have found out who the killer was. But poor China at this time…his mental state was something that should not be spoken of. With Yellow making him crack more and more… "Have you ever realized how _evil_ they are? How completely _damned_ they are?"

"…No."

_Thump_. _Thump_. _Thump_. China continued stomping on the picture, making the entire thing crinkle first one way then the next.

"Why do you take it?" Yellow's voice was like honey, sliding to and sticking to China's brain. "Why do you stand all the _pain_ by yourself? And Nussia…Nussia, Nussia, _Nussia_. He's just going to end up as the rest of them…you know that, don't you…? He's just going to turn around and stab you in the back as well…now do you deserve that…?"

"…No."

"That's right, love. That's right."

And then a scream came from downstairs.

Suddenly China knew what he was doing. Giving a wail of disgust, he stopped stepping violently on the picture, and fell to his knees. What had just _happened_?! It wasn't like him to completely lose himself! "Yellow! Yellow! What did you _do_ to me~aru?!" China shouted into the phone. Surely Yellow had completely hypnotized him somehow…

Dial tone.

Yellow had hung up.

China dropped the receiver with horror as another anguished cry tore from downstairs. "Nussia," he gasped, jumping quickly to his feet. "Nussia! No~aru! No, Yellow, Yellow, stop~aru!"

This time China dashed down the stairs, through hallways, and into the living room at breakneck speed. His heart plummeted when he saw Nussia convulsing on the couch, giving little whimpers and pained cries every now and then. The white-haired boy's hands were bound, his back arched and a blindfold across his eyes.

"C-China…help…me…" Nussia whimpered. "China…R-Russia…anyone...please. Someone…help me…I don't want to be a nation anymore…" China froze at hearing Nussia's declaration. He had never imagined the small boy to be able to shout, however, panic seemed to push Nussia to the point where he was completely hysterical. "I don't! _S-Someone please make it stop hurting_! I don't want it to hurt anymore! I'll do anything!" Nussia gave another horrible scream.

China couldn't take anymore. He jolted out of his frozen moment and immediately ran over to Nussia, tearing off the blindfold. "Nussia, Nussia, it's me, China~aru. I'm here, I'm here, there's no more need to worry~aru." China was very surprised to find that the blindfold was damp with tears. Nussia's previously calm and controlled eyes were wide with fright and pain.

"C-China…I don't want to be a nation anymore," Nussia whimpered. "Help me…I want to be one with big brother Russia again…"

China's heart wrenched. He tried to be positive. "Don't say that, Nussia~aru," he pleaded. "Being a nation is a lot of fun…" China started trying to untie the large and complicated knot on the rope that bound Nussia's hands together. "You get to see America be stupid…he was the one you met today~aru. He was the one that wanted to start a McDonalds franchise over at your place~aru. Do you remember?"

"…Yes. The st-stupid looking one, right?" China smiled. Nussia was turning back to normal.

"Yes, the stupid looking one~aru."

China froze.

Blood.

There was blood that was seeping through the back of Canada's red sweatshirt. China turned Nussia over, the small boy offering no protest. Nussia simply closed his eyes, tears starting to fall down his face once more. Horrified, the Asian nation peeled off the hoodie.

A large 'X' was carved into his back.

With a knife.

Marked.

Nussia's been marked.

_Hey China…guess who's next…?_

China spotted a flash of yellow outside the living room window. The figure seemed to stop briefly. He grinned a large grin, the white flashing in the darkness, and then raised a hand and gave a little wave. And then he disappeared.

_Guess…guess…_

~*~-~*~

Denmark groaned, his head falling back down into the pillow after his arm reached up to grab the shrieking receiver. He slowly brought it to his ear, his cranky voice not once losing its iciness. "Iceland…it's fucking one in the morning…the hell do you want from me?"

Apparently Iceland didn't catch Denmark's tone, because he cried out in panic. "Norway's still not back in his home yet!"

Denmark frowned. "How long as it been? You know the asshole likes to disappear for hours at a time."

"It's been three days now! _Three_ days!"

Denmark froze.

_Three…days…?_

* * *

**Like it? Hate it? Drop us a review, 'kay? ^^**

**If you like RussiaxAmerica, then go check out a new story that Angel posted. (Half Moon Rising. That's a cool name, don'tcha think? :D) We need to keep some of our sanity, so I'm going to start a USUK when I get back from China.**

**Catch you guys later~!**


	11. Brides in the Bath

Hey everybody! Another super speedy update by Angel (applause and cheers) Thank you thank you, but I have to be quick because I'm off to work in like two seconds so I'll put the shout outs later and beg Lucky for forgiveness! And remember EVERYTHING is a clue, even Nussia. In fact, Nussia practically gives the entire thing away. Did any of you catch it? Someone was angry at us for putting him in there, but we HAD to give you guys SOMETHING! XD

**Lucky's arthor edit: Doesn't it seem like Angel's always running away from me? -.-; Anyway, don't mind me. I'm just here to tell you guys that the poll is closed. Go over and check out the results! Another thing, we're a little curious as to why so many of you guys picked 'other'. We'd love to know exactly what you meant by 'other'. XD Okay, I'll hand the baton back to Angel now.**

Disclaimer: We don't own

* * *

England wearily returned to his house, and upon opening the door, was greeted by and even more irritating than usual Sealand. There was no 'welcome back' or 'how did it go' just heavy silence that promised England he was in for a migraine later. The small nation's brows were furrowed in a frown, while his arms were crossed over his chest, one foot tapping like an impatient mother.

"It went smashingly," England said sarcastically, careful to hang his coat on the rack by the door. As tired as he was, he wasn't one to throw cleanliness out the window to save a few seconds.

"You left me for a week without any food," Sealand informed.

"You're a 'country', you can get your own food," England retorted, running an exhausted hand through his short sandy hair. "Besides, don't you live with Finland and Sweden now? Why are you bothering me?" Sealand's frown softened into a grin.

"Somebody needs to look after you. Especially with you living out here all by yourself," he proclaimed.

"If by 'looking after me' you mean coming over here to avoid doing the chores Sweden assigns you, then you're doing a bang up job."

"Hey, Sweden is scary!"

"Well, did you at least go to the deli while I was away?"

"I just said you left me here without any food _and_ you took all the money!"

"You know, when you squeal like that I can't understand a word you're saying," England muttered, removing his shoes. Sealand merely gave a huff and pivoted on his heel before running into the next room. After a few seconds, there was the unmistakable shattering of glass.

"Sealand!" England hollered, storming after his younger brother. Sealand had developed the habit of breaking things when he was angry, and the older nation had a feeling that whatever just shattered was either beautiful, timeless, irreplaceable, expensive, or some combination of the four.

When he found Sealand, England was enraged to see one of his precious vases in pieces, the little country triumphantly standing above it as if he had slain a dragon.

"You little brat!" he screeched, diving after the younger nation, but missing as the boy ducked and ran behind the couch. England fell facedown on the floor, sighed, cursed his life, then pushed himself to his knees and started gathering the shards of his once beautiful vase. Maybe he could still save it.

"You didn't even tell me why you were going!" Sealand cried from his hiding place.

"So you break a timeless treasure?" England questioned, his anger and frustration evident. "I had to go get France!"

"Oh, so chasing after your boyfriend is more important than feeding your little brother?" England sputtered and dropped the pieces, his face bright red.

"B-Boyfriend?" he repeated, his tone conveying deep embarrassment at the thought. It lasted only for a split second however, and then England straightened his collar and cleared his throat. "France is an annoying dolt who got himself in a mess, that's all."

"Well, you sure went out of the way to get that 'annoying dolt' out of that mess," Sealand countered. "At three a.m. In Moscow."

"I _will_ come back there!" England warned, standing up abruptly and facing the couch. "Why are you complaining about food anyway? You hate my cooking even though it's wonderful!"

"That doesn't mean you can't _buy_ me food from a place that can actually _cook_," Sealand pointed out. He peeked his head out from around the back of the couch, although not far out enough for England to make a lunge and grab his collar. "Luckily Liechtenstein was bringing me food everyday, but she's not looking too great now that I think about it."

"Her brother was murdered, what do you expect?" England sighed, deciding to simply sweep up the pieces of his vase instead of going through the heartache of putting it back together and knowing it would never look the same.

"That, and Austria and Hungary own her now," Sealand added.

"What?" England asked. He froze on his way to retrieve a broom and dustpan, green eyes wide. "Are you serious?" Sealand gave him a odd look, which quickly turned into an incredibly smug smile.

"Well, yeah. It's been all over the news. After Switzerland was killed, Liechtenstein's boss agreed to go under Austria and Hungary. In fact, ever since Russia was attacked, a lot of the smaller nations are seeking their protection. Yugoslavia, Czechs Republic, Romania, Belgium--she was destroyed by Germany in World War I, remember? And I heard Romano talking about trying to convince Italy and Spain to join too. Everyone is all freaked out about these nation-killers, so they all want to group together and protect one another," Sealand explained matter-of-factly. "Although, this is relatively big news so you should have heard it already. Or were you and France too busy in your own world to pay attention to what's going on in the real one?"

"Shut up!" England snapped, grabbing a nearby pillow and throwing it at his brother's head. Sealand ducked behind the couch again, causing the pillow to hit the wall behind him. "I'm surprised you're not asking me about Moscow."

"Okay, so how was Moscow?" Sealand asked. "Did you save your damsel in distress?" England sighed again.

"Enough with the teasing, Sealand," he said wearily. "It was bad. Really bad."

"How?"

England didn't answer for a moment, remembering the ruined city and seeing France standing in the middle of what was once Red Square. The buildings had been little more than charred skeletons. England had not seen a single living person, for whoever these nation-killers were showed no mercy. He saw where people were dragged out of their homes and shot. Soldiers and civilians alike were splayed out and unmoving in the streets. Russia's city had been burned to the ground yet again.

France had been shivering, and his body was stiff and scared. What really shook England however, was France had that look in his eye he had only seen once before. It had been during the reign of Louis XVI, when nearly all of France's people were starving. The royalty mercilessly taxed them on food as essential as bread, while they overspent despite accumulating debt and France's own pleas.

England remembered it like it was yesterday, for it had been the only time he feared France might actually die. Of course there had been other times where France had been in trouble, but those hadn't been serious enough to make England actually care. That hadn't left France curled into himself crying over his hunger pains because he refused to eat. That hadn't left England's vocabulary only seven words:

"_Oh God, please be selfish and eat. Please."_

France was given food of course, but anything he received he gave to his people, not even saving a scrap for himself. England (even though they weren't getting along by any means) had also brought food to him on several occasions (mostly as an insult, but the good deed was still there!) and even then, France was always giving it so someone else.

"_You're cooking is terrible anyway," _he'd tease, but his eyes were hollow, every bone in his body tight against his skin. But the one thing that made England want to cry once he got past his initial smugness, was he knew France _wanted _to eat the food and hated himself for it. France was starved and barely had the strength to stand, but he still didn't eat. England held him and tried to keep him warm, but he wasn't around often. He was busy with his own issues, but he visited every now and then to see the horror.

There'd be many people: men, women, and children who would gather around while their nation tried to care for them with what little he had. England watched helplessly as France weakly struggled to get to them everyday to give away his food. It had been one of the few times in their long history England actually respected France, even when their mutual dislike for one another was at an all-time high.

France cried often because he didn't have enough to feed everyone, but no matter how many tears he shed, he'd always carry a certain look in his eye. It was a terrible haunted expression that stayed on his face whenever a child he wasn't able to feed sobbed, and a mother halfheartedly shushed it. That painful expression reappeared in Moscow that day.

As soon as France lifted his head and spotted England, he immediately abandoned his post and ran to him, wrapping his arms around England's neck and burying his face in his shoulder. He was trembling horribly and on the verge of breaking down into sobs. England had simply returned the embrace, letting his free hand stroke the back of France's head.

"_You silly git," _he murmured.

"Oh, daydreaming about your honeymoon?" Sealand teased, snapping his older brother back to a much more annoying reality.

"I told you to stop with the teasing!" England snarled, finally getting his broom and dustpan and sweeping up the remains of his vase. The pieces tinkled together when he pushed them in the bin, as if they too were mocking him. After a moment, he turned to the couch and asked the question that had nagged him for nearly a week. "So, Russia is dead?"

"No!" Sealand exclaimed, even going so far as to remove himself from his hiding place. "Wow, how far were you up France's butt that you haven't even heard?"

"Heard what?" England demanded, dumping the contents of his dustpan into a nearby trashcan. Sealand gave him an annoyed look.

"You were even in Moscow! Or did you go to France's house for a week to-"

"I went to France's house right after I got to Moscow and stayed a week to make sure he wouldn't throw himself off a nearby cliff," England interrupted, making a mental note to bash America in the head for filling Sealand's head with filth. "You know how he is with things like that. Ever since the whole Reign of Terror thing, the Napoleon incident, and the whole being invaded by Germany in World War I and II he can't stand gore."

"Yeah, I _guess,_" Sealand admitted, pouting a little now that there was really no more teasing to be done. "He's sure been through a lot."

"Now, tell me what happened to Russia," England ordered.

"He's in a coma," Sealand answered shortly.

"A coma?"

"Yes, a coma!" Sealand snapped. "You have a habit for not listening don't you?" At this, England grabbed his younger brother in a headlock, and buried his knuckles in the smaller nation's scalp.

"Ow! Arthur, that hurts!" Sealand cried, trying to wriggle out of his brother's grip.

"The only good thing your idiot brother invented was the noogie!" England yelled.

"Which idiot brother? You or America?" At this, Sealand craned his neck backwards and ran his tongue across England's fisted hand.

"Oh, disgusting!" he shouted, dropping Sealand, who scuttled back behind the couch. Each of England's fingers were now coated in saliva and he wiped them furiously on his pants. "So Russia is in a coma and Liechtenstein is under Austria and Hungary, anything else I missed?"

"Well, all of Russia's government officials were assassinated shortly after the attack. There was some political turmoil, and now a new nation was born."

"A new nation?" England questioned.

"Uh huh, The Republic of New Russia. Apparently due to China and Russia's alliance, if either one falls into anarchy, the government of whichever one is most stable takes temporary control of the people."

"Ah, so he's anticommunist and broke off from Russia," England concluded. "He won't survive long though without aid."

"Now that you mention it, he does look really sick," Sealand reported. "He's living with China and accepting his aid for the time being, although I can't say that's the best idea."

"Ah yes, I heard China was caught in the cross fire when Russia was attacked," England recalled.

"China's been threatened also." England's eyes widened again. "Oh no. How? What precautions is he taking?" Sealand's eyes narrowed and England felt a sudden wave of sadness at how grown up he looked.

"I'm not sure what he's doing to protect himself, but apparently there were messages written in blood on the wall of his bedroom. Also, New Russia was attacked as well. "

"How cheery," England growled. "I'm going to bed."

"What, you just got back and you're not going to feed me?" Sealand whined pathetically.

"It was a long journey and I'm tired," England muttered, heading toward the hall that led to his bedroom. "Feed yourself!" He called over his shoulder as he made it to his bedroom.

"But-"

England slammed the door before Sealand could finish.

* * *

"Why are you duct taping your pants?" Spain asked, rather confused as to why Romano had a roll of silver tape which he was currently wrapping it around his waist.

"France is coming over today," Romano answered bluntly, the constant scowl never leaving his face. Spain watched for a moment, then shrugged.

"Well, that explains everything."

"It does," Romano replied shortly. He really wished Spain would just leave him alone. He was annoyed enough over the concept of France in close proximity, and Spain's easygoing manner just made him all the more irate.

"So, why is dear Francis coming over?" Spain questioned, plopping down in a nearby chair and throwing his feet up. This gesture told Romano that he had no intention of leaving and it pissed him off even more. Romano was known for his short temper, and shot Spain a nasty look before returning to his work. Securing one last layer of duct tape, he chewed through the roll and set it on a nearby nightstand.

"There," Romano said. "Let's see that pervert try to touch something now." Spain gave a good humored chuckle.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"What makes you think I have to?" Romano snapped. "It's bad enough my idiot brother is playing detective with potato-bastard and the unnaturally polite robot."

"I'm not trying to play detective, just curious that's all," Spain said gently. Romano studied him for a minute through wary eyes. Spain had a natural calming aura about him that somehow soothed Romano's nerves. Perhaps that was why they were able to live together. Even now, Romano felt some of the built up tension leave him, but his expression didn't soften. Quite the opposite actually.

"He wants to talk me out of talking you and Italy into going under Austria and Hungary," Romano answered. "You know how he is about rising empires since the whole Napoleon thing, and the invaded by Germany thing. Still, he was the one that found Moscow in ruins, so I don't understand why he's so against us having extra protection." Spain gave a knowing smile. "What?" Romano demanded. "You know something I don't?"

"Last I heard they weren't calling it an 'empire'," Spain answered, his tone patient and not condescending in the least. Romano hated when he talked like that. It made it so difficult to act tough and cold towards him. Spain had a gentle heart, and as much as Romano claimed to be above such things, he secretly enjoyed the other nation's affections.

"Well, whatever the hell they're calling it," Romano said uncaringly. "The point is, we could use some powerful allies now."

"I agree, but going under another nation?" Spain asked in that same voice Romano so hated. "Eventually these nation-killers will be found and defeated, but you'll still be part of Austria and Hungary. Although," Spain paused for a moment, his smile widening, "it makes me happy that you care enough about me to try and convince me to join something you think will keep me safe." Romano felt his cheeks redden, and he turned away abruptly, crossing his arms and giving a huff.

"I just don't want to clean your bloodstains off the brand new carpet."

"That's all?" God, Romano hated when Spain acted so gentle. He hated the other nation's stupid, passive-aggressive approach to problems, his stupid, affectionate brown eyes and his stupid, wavy, soft hair. Everything about Spain was annoying--almost as annoying as Feliciano.

Romano gasped as he felt Spain's arms wrap around his shoulders, and the other nation's head rest against his back. He felt his skin tingle where a few strands of Spain's hair brushed. Romano's heart sped up in his chest and he felt his palms sweat.

This was by far the most annoying thing about Spain. It was the way he made Romano feel. He made Romano kinda-sorta care for him, as difficult as it was for the Italian to conceive. He had long since admitted to himself that he liked Spain's affection, but had yet to admit it out loud to Spain's face.

"What do you think you're doing?" Romano demanded, although he felt his body warm at the soft contact. "Did I give you permission to touch me?" He felt and heard Spain laugh quietly behind him.

"No, but I decided to risk it."

"Get off," Romano ordered, still scowling. There was a moment of silence, then Spain sighed deeply. Romano was about to turn around and give him a good thump on the head, but froze as he felt Spain's lips brush his cheek.

Even though the contact was brief, and so gentle it could have been mistaken for a gust of air, Romano felt every nerve in his body freeze while blood poured into his cheeks. His heart was on rapid fire and he feared he might pass out from the exultation. Spain was the only nation that made him feel like this, and it made him angry almost as much as it made him nearly beg for more.

However, the euphoria evaporated as soon as Spain spoke again.

"Why are you so cruel to me?"

His voice didn't quiver and there was no indication of him about to break out into tears, but he sounded hurt all the same. For once in his life, Romano regretted his cold exterior. He knew Spain tried his hardest to please. Romano had shown him affection on several occasions, but those were few and far between. In a way, he was keeping Spain on a leash, yanking him closer when he wanted him and then kicking him away when he was done, regardless of how he felt.

_Why are you so cruel to me? _

Those words hurt. Romano wanted to tell Spain how he really felt inside. He wanted to say that Spain was the only nation that made him relatively happy, while the rest were just annoying, crazy, morons. As much as Spain annoyed him…he loved him. Romano loved Spain, but what came out instead was,

"Because you're an idiot."

More silence, then Romano felt the arms loosen from around him and the weight of Spain's head vanish from his back.

"I have to go see my boss," Spain said, his voice back to its usual cheery self. It was as if the moment between them had never occurred. "Have fun with France, okay? I'll see you later tonight." There were footsteps then the slamming of a door.

"Dammit!" Romano cursed softly. Why did he always do that? Why did Spain always make him feel guilty for being mean? Romano let out a breath of air before heading down to the kitchen to wait for France. Spain was just a big baby that was all. He sounded fine anyway when he left.

Romano entered the living room and stopped to run a frustrated hand through his hair. The front door Spain had just exited was right there, glaring at him. He'd still be able to catch Spain and apologize if he went now. Romano shook his head of the thought.

_Big baby, _he thought to himself as he stared accusingly at the door. _Always trying to guilt trip me. I bet he's standing outside waiting for me to go after him. Jerk. Him and his cheesy soap operas. _

"You seem tense," a cruel little voice said from behind him. Romano jerked around and gasped as he saw the intruder. The person was dressed completely in black, a white mask hiding their identity.

"How did you get into my house?" Romano demanded, his eyes widening in both terror and realization. He remembered what Italy said about the nation-killers wearing masks and fought the strong urge to panic. Something within him prayed that this was just some sick joke. "Get out!"

"I was waiting for days to get the perfect opportunity to meet you." The white-masked killer brushed away Romano's order, merely pushing themselves off the wall they were leaning lazily against. The movement revealed the strap of a duffle bag across the killer's shoulder. "Your husband left the door unlocked when he ran out of here crying. What kind of wife are you?"

"Get out!" Romano yelled, backing away slowly. His horrified eyes were on the duffle bag, imagining the horrors inside. Perhaps the killer had murdered another nation and was carrying around their body parts, or worse, maybe there were torture devices.

"That's rather rude," the killer sighed, looking down as if Romano had deeply hurt them. "I might have to teach you some manners, if not for your own good, then for the sake of your poor hubby." Romano had enough of this. This psychopath wasn't going to 'teach' him anything. Turning abruptly, Romano made to dash for the front door, but heard _click_.

It was enough to make him freeze. He heard that click so many times before that he knew the noise following it would either leave him horribly injured or dead. His mind flashed to potato-bastard and the tiny pistol he always carried. A small tingle of laughter sounded from behind him.

"Ah, ah, ah, no running away now," the killer teased. Romano turned to find that his suspicions were correct. The killer was holding a gun directed right at him. Romano thought perhaps he might still be able to dodge the bullets, and his eyes frantically scanned the room. There were a few couches he could use for cover and then not too far away was the front door.

The killer noticed his trail of sight and let out another horrible little giggle. It was like the laugh of a demented doll in a horror movie. It made Romano's skin crawl.

"I wouldn't run if I were you," the killer advised, moving the gun until it pointed at one of Romano's knees. "I don't want to kill you _just _yet, but I know where to shoot you so you won't die. After all, I did learn from the best."

"You dammed sadist!" Romano spat. There had to be some way to escape. Surely his people would be able…his people.

It wasn't enough to physically attack a nation to kill it, one had to attack that nation's heart. One had to kill that nation's leaders and burn every major city to the ground. Russia was only in a coma because the killers were only able to take down Moscow and a few cities close by. Switzerland had been eradicated and his surviving people were scattered throughout Europe.

The pain came as if to cement this thought. Romano suddenly felt as if every joint in his body had been twisted out of place. He screamed as agony overtook him and he crumpled to the floor, curling into himself. So this was the pain Switzerland felt before he died. Romano gave a scream as a particularly nasty stab of pain shot through his abdomen.

"Don't worry, I'm sure your brother is feeling the same thing right about now," the killer mockingly reassured. "Rome is a rather important city is it not?" Romano felt a new fear pulse through him.

"L-Leave…Feliciano… alone," he gasped, tears of agony running down his cheeks. Never before had he been in such pain, and he knew Feliciano wasn't strong enough to withstand this.

"Oh, no worries, just because we destroy a capital doesn't mean the nation dies. Look at Russia for instance. Green almost got in big trouble for that. I mean, what was he thinking? Hitting him on the head? No, you have to make sure they die. Then Yellow, playing with his food. He's like a kitten, I swear, and your friend China happens to be the little mouse," the killer paused, realizing that they had gotten off topic. "Anyway, your little brother will be spared… for now."

The white masked killer took a step forward, and through the blinding agony, Romano felt his muscles stiffen. He had to move, and he had to get up. The reality hit him that this might very well be the last moment he had to be alive. There was so much he needed to do. He had to tell Spain he was sorry. Then he remembered something. France was coming over today.

There was hope. All he had to do was hold on until he arrived. Romano never thought he'd actually _want _France in his house, but now he practically drilled a hole through the front door with his gaze. France's face suddenly became the most beautiful thing in Romano's mind.

"France," Romano whispered. The killer stopped in their tracks and tilted their head to the side curiously, gun now pointed at Romano's head.

"Pardon?"

"France is coming over today!" Romano shouted, but writhed once more as another whip of pain lashed his back. In his head, his people were screaming in utter agony. He had been caught completely unaware, and knew he should have convinced Feliciano and Antonio to go under Austria and Hungary sooner. His lungs felt as if they had shrunken to the size of golf balls, and his chest heaved with effort as he rolled over on his back.

"France, huh?" the killer mused, their gloved finger tightening dangerously on the gun's trigger. "Now, there's a set back to this little scheme." From the stand on the other side of the room the phone began to ring, causing both Romano and the killer to startle. Romano's back arched as he felt something punch against the inside of his ribs and the killer turned to look at the ringing device. "Well, who could that be?"

Romano merely continued to gasp as the answering machine picked up. He heard his own bored and slightly irritated voice rise from the speakers.

"Hello, you've reached the home of North and South Italy and occasionally Spain if I haven't thrown him out. If we like you we'll call you back, if we don't, or if this is potato-bastard, then we won't so leave a message after the annoying sound." The beep came, and Romano's hands balled into fists as cramps and aching spasms wracked his sides.

"Oh, Lovino, it's France. So sorry, but I can't make it to our meeting today. You see, Seychelles is horribly ill, and I really must stay with her until she's well. Which is a shame, because I made the most wonderful _soufflé au fromage _for us. You know how she is whenever she gets out of debt and saves up some money, always spend, spend, spend. Anyway, she's just got the economy blues, but I really must make sure she sees a full recovery. So when you get the chance give me a call back and we'll reschedule. _Au revoir_!" There was another beep.

"Oh, you got to be kidding me!" Romano cried. The killer laughed wildly, before continuing their path towards him. Romano rolled over on his stomach and attempted to crawl away, but was stopped when the killer's hand grabbed the collar of his uniform and jerked him until he was on his back once more. To his horror the killer began to drag him towards the bathroom.

"We're going to have a bit of fun before I have to kill you," the killer said. Romano was in a full blown panic at this point, but there was nothing he could do. His limbs felt as if they were stuffed with molten lead, and everything hurt. His head hurt, his eyes hurt, even his hair hurt. Still, they said that they'd spare Feliciano for the moment, and that gave him some comfort.

His younger twin was annoying beyond all means, but he still cared deeply for him. The only assurance Lovino had about Feliciano's safety was that potato-bastard would protect him. As much as Lovino hated him, he knew the German would never let anything bad happen to his little brother.

The killer continued to drag him closer and closer to the bathroom and he knew that it might very well be his tomb. He was bumped a few times against the wall and his head felt like it was about to split in half, so he didn't struggle. There really was no point anyway, he knew the killer was much stronger than him.

Instead he began to regret. Why didn't he tell Spain what he wanted to say? The killer, now panting lightly with the effort of dragging him, finally made it into the bathroom. Romano's boots were the last thing to disappear, before the door closed.

* * *

Although many nations had serious doubts about Italy's intelligence, one thing he prided himself on was being able to cook amazing pasta. At first glance, intelligence and pasta seemed to be completely unrelated, but it was this comparison that led he, Germany, and Japan this far in the investigation.

To create the best pasta, one must have amazing sauce, and to have amazing sauce, one must find the perfect ingredients. Italy thus viewed the mystery as the sauce and the clues as the ingredients. It was all about seeing what went together. Like spices, clues had to be combined in a certain way to come to the correct conclusion or flavor. The pasta was then the identities of the killers.

Such thinking made Italy hungry, but it kept him on track, especially when observing the blood on China's walls. Despite Japan's insistence that there were many clues, there really hadn't been many at all. He had scored the walls with his magnifying glass, searching for a fingerprint or a strange smudge, but this killer had been careful.

Unlike the other killers, this one had not left a sequin at the scene, but Italy was able to conclude that each killer wore a different colored mask due to the white and green decorations. However, that didn't help much with this killer or in finding the identities of the others. All it did was offer possible insight on how they operated, which was most definitely under one nation. Helpful in some aspects, but not in this.

The blood had been applied by a finger, yes, but the finger had been gloved. Everything had been expertly performed. There had been no droplets of blood anywhere else in China's house other than his bedroom, meaning the killer hadn't dragged a body with him. Italy concluded he probably made the victim bleed out into a container and carried it to the scene of the crime.

Upon sharing this with his companions, he noticed Germany paled, whereas Japan got a determined look in his eye and also came to the conclusion that whoever China's harasser was, was well-read and enjoyed games. They then both came up with a list of nations they knew fit the profile. The main suspects included, England, Belgium, France, and much to Germany's dismay, Austria. Still, it was only a possible list and nothing more. Italy found the certain ingredients for this crime scene, but they still didn't blend together to make the right flavor. He found himself for once stumped. They didn't know who or what the blood belonged to, and without fingerprints or even droplets indicating a body was dragged or carried, there was really nothing else they could do other than tell China to be careful.

Of course, all three of them got quite the surprise when China returned home carrying a sleeping boy who looked exactly like Russia, only pale and seemingly on the verge of death. China appeared happier than he had been in a long time, but Japan didn't seem to share the enthusiasm as China explained how a small group of Russia's people had separated from him to create The Republic of New Russia.

"So now you're replacing Ivan?" he had snapped. Italy and Germany looked to their friend in both shock and concern. China's smiling face had immediately fallen into an expression of pure misery, anger, and hurt. He clutched the boy's body closer to himself as if he might disappear should he let go.

"No, he's part of Ivan~aru!" China snarled defensively, his voice quivering before dropping to a near inaudible whisper. "He's the only part I have left~aru." The last bit of his lover he had to cling to was in the form of a boy who they learned was most likely going to die within a year. Maybe less if his civilian-run government didn't stabilize, even with China's aid.

Italy immediately saw a flash of guilt in Japan's usually impassive eyes. Then to make matters worse, Japan then proceeded to leave he and Germany hanging in the awkward moment, claiming he had unfinished business to attend to with America.

Now the three were walking to Germany's house. Italy, finding a dead end in China's harasser, decided to test a different ingredient. He had come to the conclusion that if Austria and Hungary had anything to do with the murders and attacks, he'd be able to find out by speaking to them. Eager to clear Austria's name, Germany agreed to call them. Still, Germany hadn't exactly forgiven Japan for abandoning them to chase after America and was now pursuing and interrogation of his own.

"You know, Japan, you've been skittering around this whole America subject," he observed, trying to make his voice sound casual.

"It was nothing important," Japan answered. "I found nothing connecting him to Switzerland and his boss had his sights set elsewhere."

"What did you find then?" Italy noticed how Japan's face darkened slightly with a shameful blush.

"Nothing, Germany-sama. That's just it. I found absolutely nothing. He's been under a lot of stress from his boss, that's all. His states have been disappearing as well."

"Really?" Italy found himself asking. "So the killers are going after underlings too. Better tell Canada to watch out for Quebec and Newfoundland."

"Yes, and it's left him swamped," Japan sighed. "States are disappearing and his boss is on the verge of a mental breakdown."

"Which states are missing?" Germany questioned. "And how are the people reacting?"

"So far, only Maine, Oregon, and Michigan. They managed to keep the people in the dark, but I'm not sure for how much longer," Japan reported, his brows furrowing. "They're all northern sates as well, close to Canada's border."

"Are you saying Canada has something to do with it?" Germany demanded. Japan shook his head.

"I'm not saying anything, just hypothesizing. That's what investigations are all about, Germany-sama, hypothesizing." Italy watched as Germany's expression became unreadable before he changed the subject.

"You've been running off to see America a lot too. What's that about?"

"I just offer him an extra hand, that's all." Italy knew Germany didn't buy it, but strangely enough, the larger nation kept his mouth shut until they reached his house.

"West!" East Germany, or as he preferred, Prussia called out when he saw his younger brother. Italy waved happily at the sight of him. Prussia was in the middle of feeding a cluster of fluffy yellow chicks, all of them gathering around his feet, while one brave soul sat on top of his head. Prussia made his way over to greet them, the little chicks following as if he was their mother.

"Gilbert, why is that filthy animal on your head?" Germany asked, exasperated. Italy crouched down and began to pet one of the little birds, smiling happily as it gave a quiet peep. Japan merely watched from above, his expression unreadable.

"Zwölf is not filthy!" Prussia gasped, reaching up and cupping the chick in his hands, before bringing it protectively against his chest. Italy tilted his head curiously at the unusual name.

"Ve, isn't zwölf German for twelve?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Why did you name him after a number?" Italy questioned.

"Oh for the love of God," Germany muttered, burying his face in his hands as Prussia gave a smug smirk.

"He killed twelve people," the other nation explained proudly. "It's because he's awesome like his daddy." He nuzzled the little chick tenderly. "Yes, who's awesome? You are. Yes you are!" Italy felt his stomach sink as he looked at the chick. It gave a tiny peep and tilted its head from left to right.

Looking at it now, Italy noticed how positively soulless its beady black eyes appeared. In his mind, fire exploded from behind the bird, and dramatic opera music rang loudly. Italy gulped, blinked slowly to rid himself of the image, and hid behind Japan, who also seemed a bit uncomfortable.

"How was he able to accomplish this, Prussia-san?" Japan wondered.

"Well-"

"Don't ask," Germany interrupted. "Are Austria and Hungary here yet?" Prussia's red eyes narrowed a little as he delicately stroked Zwölf's head. The other little chicks milled about his boots, pecking lightly at the hem of his pants.

"Yeah, they're here," he confirmed. "Why did you call them anyway?"

"They're under suspicion," Japan answered. "We want to ask them a few questions."

"Ah," Prussia responded, putting Zwölf back on the ground, where he was promptly lost in the small sea of yellow. "Yeah, they got here a few minutes ago, and knowing Austria, he's probably digging through our trash right now."

"Don't I know it," Germany sighed. It wasn't a question.

Sure enough, when the four nation's arrived inside, they were greeted by the sight of Austria's backside hanging out of the garbage. Hungary was standing next to him, a rather flustered expression on her face.

"Roderich, darling," she hissed, tapping him lightly. She shot an apologetic look to Germany as Austria emerged from his searching, withdrawing a carton of old milk.

"This milk is only one day past expiration date! How horribly wasteful!" he declared, adjusting his glasses.

"Roderich!" Hungary snapped.

"Yes, Elizaveta, what?" Austria asked, obviously annoyed by his wife's interruption. Hungary merely jerked her head towards the other nation's and Austria's gaze quickly found them.

"Ah, Germany, so nice of you to invite us. Heaven knows we haven't been able to speak in ages," he said politely. "Now, about this milk-"

"Roderich!" Hungary exclaimed. "Put that back in the trash this instant! You of all nations should know digging through other's trash is rude and kind of creepy!" Then her face broke out into a kindly smile as she turned to her hosts. "Italy, you've grown so much since I last saw you, dear." Italy's face broke into a grin as he ran into Hungary's outstretched arms. He really had missed her, even though she enjoyed dressing him in her hand-me-downs.

"I missed you," he said happily.

"I missed you too," she replied. From behind her, Austria attempted to reach into the trash again. Hungary, without even turning around, shot him a warning. "Sweetie, you reach into that garbage can again, I will not wear that silky black dress tonight." Austria halted his movements.

"You mean the one with the easy-open ribbon?"

"Precisely the one."

"B-But the waste!" Austria insisted. "So many of these items-"

"No sex," Hungary interrupted. Austria's face paled.

"My God."

"I didn't need to hear that!" Prussia shouted, covering his ears. Germany cleared his throat uncomfortably .

"We need to get down to business," he reminded. Italy pouted, but allowed himself to be led into the living room. He promptly sat next to Germany and tried to hold his hand, but frowned as the other nation pulled it away. Japan silently sat down on the other side of Germany, while Prussia seated himself on the arm of the couch. Austria and Hungary, arm in arm, sat on the couch opposite to the other four.

"So, what can we do for you, Germany?" Hungary asked pleasantly.

"Look, you guys are my friends, so I feel I must warn you that a lot of nations are suspecting you of being part of the nation-killers," Germany answered. Austria and Hungary exchanged looks for a moment before Austria spoke.

"Although I do admit this has come at a relatively convenient time for us, I assure you, neither Hungary nor I have anything to do with Switzerland and Russia's attacks."

"Besides Germany, we want to help you," Hungary added. "After all these years, the allies are _still _making you pay reparations for World War II. Even after the collapse of the Soviet Union, France insisted you pay."

"He has every right to want me to suffer," Germany murmured guiltily. Italy felt sadness overcome him.

"Oh, _Doitsu, _it wasn't your fault," Italy said, giving Germany a gentle smile. The larger country averted his gaze to his hands.

"It was my fault. I believed my boss. I believed in him. I thought what he was doing was right and all those people…" he trailed off, swallowing roughly. "I hated them all," he whispered. "I hated every man, woman, and child that walked into those camps." His voice got louder and his hands balled into fists. "I did terrible things to France both times, I basically threw half of Poland's people to an insane Russia, I attacked Belgium when she was neutral, I went behind America's back with the Zimmerman Note-"

"Germany-sama," Japan interrupted, placing a hand on Germany's shoulder. "We've all done things we wish we could take back. England, America, Russia, France, everyone messed up. And although this isn't an excuse, we all make mistakes. I certainly have mine, but just because _we _screw up, doesn't mean our people should bear our burden." Germany let out a shaky breath.

"We understand why France is upset even after all this time, but the amount of money he's asking for is totally unrealistic," Hungary reasoned. "Your people are suffering because of it."

"The old broad's right about that, West," Prussia said, ignoring the glare Hungary shot him. "Inflation is at an all time high. Yesterday I went to buy feed for the kids and the price just totally threw me. Also, unemployment and poverty rates are rising." Italy felt his heart sink as a burdened look befell Germany's face. With all that was going on with the mystery, Germany had just started to act like his old self again, but now the sad and angry Germany was reappearing right before Italy's eyes.

"Gilbert, when you begin to refer to our future meals as children, I get concerned for your well-being," Germany said, before rubbing his temples. "And Austria, Hungary, I appreciate that you want to help, but I can't go under your empire, that will only scare my people further."

"Oh, please don't call it an 'empire'," Austria sniffed. "That word has such an negative connotation attached to it."

"We prefer 'states'," Hungary added. "You know, like the Holy Roman Empire and America."

"Well, I can't be one of your states either," Germany replied. "Besides, America has been helping me with the debts."

"So," Austria laughed, placing a hand over Hungary's. "You don't expect him to want all the money he's giving you back?"

"No!" Prussia snapped angrily, his red eyes narrowed. Italy followed the trail of his glare and noticed it was directed at Austria and Hungary's linked hands. It was then he remembered that Prussia always had a 'thing' for Hungary, as Germany put it. They had grown up together and shared some strange chemistry even Italy couldn't deny. "We'll pay him back, but on our own time."

"America and I have made an agreement that I will lower tariffs on his exports and pay one percent of the debt every three years," Germany explained. "But we're not here to talk about that. I called you here because you are under suspicion."

"We'd also like to ask you a few questions," Japan added. "Like, how you finally got Liechtenstein to become one of your 'states'. Many believe you bullied her." Austria gave a flustered huff, before adjusting his cuffs and frowning.

"We did no such thing!" he declared. Hungary gave her husband's shoulder a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

"We threatened to place an embargo on her, but she had plenty of other trade partners," Hungary explained. "I hardly call that bullying. Not the most mature thing to do, I admit, but not bullying."

"But Switzerland happened to be killed right after you sent one of your diplomats with the offer," Japan pointed out. Austria gave him an odd look.

"Yes, but we never spoke to Vash."

"I think what Japan is getting at is that Switzerland's death would be enough to scare Liechtenstein's boss into going under you," Germany concluded.

"Never!" Austria declared. "Vash was one of my dearest friends as much as he liked to deny it. Besides, killing off an entire nation just to get another one to join us sounds a little over the top."

"We know," Italy chimed in cheerfully. "That's why none of us believe you had anything to do with it."

"Then why call us here?" Hungary asked, confused.

"Because I want you to be careful," Germany reminded. "I really do appreciate you wanting to help me, but I'm afraid these nation-killers are going to use your current status against you."

"You mean, frame us?" Austria questioned.

"Precisely," Japan confirmed with a quick nod. "Russia was beaten in the head with the handle of a frying pan." Both nations' faces paled at this, knowing Hungary had a preference for venting her anger with kitchen utensils. Austria knew this better than anyone (as he had been on the receiving end of such displays) and drew Hungary closer to himself, earning a low grumble from Prussia, who promptly looked to the side.

"That's-" He was interrupted as Italy gave a scream and fell to the floor, eyes wide and agonized.

"Italy!" Germany hollered, throwing himself near the screaming Italy and gathering him in his arms. "Italy, what's wrong?" Italy tried to answer, but something constricted around his neck and left him gasping.

"Italy-kun!" Japan's face appeared above him, the usual serene expression now slightly panicked and fearful. "He's being attacked." Italy felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes and he gripped the front of Germany's uniform as he writhed. His heart was on rapid fire from fear and he closed his eyes as the lights in the room suddenly became unbearable.

"Hold onto him West!" Prussia cried as Italy began to convulse. There was screaming and fire. He felt too hot, like his skin was burning off his very body. He saw Lovino screaming in his mind, then felt his head pound in on itself. The only shred he had to reality was his fist buried in Germany's uniform.

"Germany… it hurts!" Italy sobbed, once he was able to breathe again. "It really, really _hurts_!" He felt Germany's arms tighten around him, and gingerly opened his eyes to see Austria's head resting against Hungary's shoulder as he stared fearfully.

Germany's blue eyes swarmed before him, coming in and out of focus. It was as if he were underwater, his best friend's terrified face on the surface. Italy was vaguely aware of a loud shrill noise, as he pushed himself closer to Germany. After a moment, he realized the noise was his own screaming and his throat felt raw. Then, as if turned off by a switch, the pain stopped. Italy felt his body crumple completely into Germany's arms, his hair plastered to his forehead by sweat.

"Italy," Germany's voice prompted. Italy groaned as he felt himself being jarred. "Italy! Feliciano!" Italy slowly opened his eyes at the sound of his human name. Both Germany and Japan were hovering over him, although Germany was slightly closer. A few strands of his usually slicked back blond hair were hanging in his face.

"Lovino," Italy murmured softly, trying to sit up.

"Italy-kun, please don't struggle," Japan pleaded, placing his own hand on Italy's shoulder.

"No!" Italy suddenly shrieked. He felt something within him snap, as if a whole part of himself was now missing. It was a terrible hollow feeling that left him terrified. "Lovino!" He gave a final scream before struggling out of Germany's arms and bolting to the front door.


	12. Son of Sam

Yes, fear my speedy updates! XD Lucky is away in Yao, so I'm left to babysit this little bugger until she returns. Okay now here's a warning:

This chapter is rated 'F' for pure FUCKED UP! Seriously, I cried when I wrote this. So if you have a weak stomach please do not continue and wait for the next update.

Anyway, we have our infamous shout outs to all people who are kind enough to review to batshit crazy broads like Lucky and I:

**dragoneian, Miss Chelle, mangarox14, Snowflake-Ever-Falling, Furi, Thorro, Lochesh, greenpanic6, RingoNeko 201, ninjafox369, Koneko Otome, Holly Lawliet, KaruKyan, xYukii, The Mad Joker, SheWhoRunsWithScissors, PuppetMasterPuppet, , Verocat, marmoki, hurleysuki, book~worm, HandInTheCookieJar, EmoLollipop, KibalurvesHinata** (Oh yes he does, but not if Naruto gets her first!), and **AnimeDutchess** (always first to review aint she great?)

**Disclaimer: **Thank God we don't own Hetalia or this is what it would be like....

* * *

As White was making his (Yellow assumed White was male) move over the European front, Yellow was currently following Black's orders to round up the Asian front. His games were proving fun, interesting, and an easy route for manipulation. Yellow was pleased so far with how China was moving at his very command like a little lost puppet. All it took was pulling the right strings, and one of the world's super powers was on his knees drowning in guilt, fear, and loneliness.

Yes, how fun it was.

"Hello, China," the familiar voice greeted over the phone. Immediately China felt his blood run cold and his eyes widen in terror as he clutched the receiver. He thought this nightmare would be over as soon as he moved into Hong Kong and Taiwan's house.

After the last little game he played with Yellow, he immediately knew he had to get away from his house and was welcomed into Taiwan and Hong Kong's with open arms. Well, open arms from Taiwan anyway. Hong Kong didn't seem to care one way or the other. This somehow hurt more than if Hong Kong had simply slammed the door in his face and told him to go away.

He hadn't told anyone about the cameras hidden throughout his house, knowing Yellow would be even angrier if he found his project had been infiltrated. Plus, he didn't want Japan getting in any deeper than he already was.

There was no doubt in China's mind that his younger brother had successfully painted a target on his back by investigating the attacks, and China didn't want to make that target any bigger than it already was by having Japan possibly anger Yellow further by destroying the cameras. China figured the best thing to do was to slip away quietly and simply leave Yellow behind.

Taiwan of course had been worried sick and fussed over him before promptly turning her attention's to Nussia, who stiffened whenever she touched him. China noticed that the small nation was getting sicker by the day, and there was absolutely nothing China could do to make him comfortable. Nussia was in constant pain due to the inefficiency of his government and rarely did anything but sleep. He wasn't like Ivan in the least, no matter how much he looked like him.

China missed Russia more than anything in the world, and after moving into his siblings' house, had finally allowed himself to cry fully over the loss. Screaming and pulling at chunks of his hair, he let tears trickle down his cheeks. He finally felt hollow and empty once he realized he failed at everything he tried to love.

Russia had been attacked because of his stupidity and was now laying in a coma. Japan betrayed him, while the others just up and left. Then they got angry at him for finding something to soothe the pain. Korea's words still hurt, even so long after they had been hurled at him. Japan's hurt worse, however, claiming he was now trying to replace Russia, his Russia.

Why didn't they understand he wasn't trying to replace _anybody_?

After sobbing from the loneliness and unbearable weight on his shoulders, China had risen from his spot on the floor to find Nussia staring at him. There was no feeling in his violet eyes, which were so painfully similar to Russia's, China had to swallow a lump in his throat. Nussia was a part of Russia, but it wasn't the same.

Russia's eyes were full of warmth, despite his cold exterior. China loved Russia's eyes because through them he knew Russia loved him. Nussia's eyes were always emotionless, with that underlying tenseness of being in constant pain. Nussia didn't even want to exist, and though China thought at first he was to make things right by raising another sibling, something had become clear to him. Nussia didn't make China happy, he made him uncomfortable, especially with those dark unhealthy rings underneath those unfeeling orbs.

Nussia was a mockery of what Russia was. Instead of making things better, he made China feel worse, mostly because there was nothing really to be done for him. He was getting sicker and sicker with every passing second it seemed, and there was nothing China was able to do to stop his inevitable collapse.

China brought the boy into an embrace, but it wasn't the same as holding his siblings when they were little. Nussia had tentatively hugged him back, but not in the way Russia had in the office the day he had first kissed China. It was more of an uncomfortable gesture. Even now, as China listened to Yellow laugh into his ear through the phone, he still felt the small nation's uncomfortably boney body against his chest.

It felt as if Nussia was the personification of every mistake he made while trying to love someone. He had Russia's face, Japan's emotionless stare, Hong Kong's apathy, Taiwan's underlying expression of worry, and worst of all, he had the distrust Korea now felt. What they all felt. And all of this was put together on his lover's face, making China constantly dizzy and sick.

It was too much. He just wanted Russia back. Nussia would go away when Russia woke up. China could then hide against the larger nation's chest, away from all of this madness. He'd feel Russia's fingers run through his hair, wiping his tears away. He wanted Russia's arms around him now as Yellow's wild laughter shook his eardrums.

His world had crumbled and all that was left of it was a cackling killer and a boy who represented everything he hated about himself.

"You thought moving would get rid of me?" Yellow asked darkly. "Stupid mistake, love. Now it seems you've dragged your dear siblings into our little game, but hey, games are so much more fun when you have more players, am I right, love?" China shuddered. He hated Yellow's nickname for him.

"Leave them alone~aru," he whispered.

"I will as long as you don't try to move again and listen to me," Yellow replied. "Now, I only want to help you. Do you realize this?"

"How does 'torturing' mean the same as 'helping'~aru?"

"You'll see in time, love," Yellow assured, his (China assumed it was a male) voice almost tender, even through the computerized filter. "I actually know exactly how you feel. Loneliness is the mother of all bad feelings isn't it?" Although China agreed, he didn't want to have anything in common with this psychopath.

"Why me~aru?" China asked, looking over his shoulder to see Nussia asleep on the couch behind him. He wasn't going to make the mistake of leaving him unattended again. Hong Kong and Taiwan had gone out for the day, leaving him to unpack the rest of his things and watch over Nussia's deteriorating condition.

"Because we're the same. I want to keep you from feeling such a bad feeling and to overcome what you have of it already. Hong Kong didn't seem too eager to take you in. That hurt didn't it, love?"

"Stop it," China whimpered, the same dark emotion he felt while breaking the picture in Yellow's last game creeping up on him. How was it that Yellow was able to control him? The killer knew every button to press, every chink in China's armor.

"Darling, darling, darling," Yellow cooed. "How was your love?"

"How did you know I went to see him~aru?" China demanded.

"I know everything about you," Yellow informed. "I watched you cry the night you decided to try and quit our game. I also saw the look in your eye when you held dear little Nussia. Not the same at all is it? Don't answer that, because I know it's not. Just tell me about your visit to your dear Ivan."

Earlier that day, China had gone to visit Russia and was thankful that Belarus was not there. Instead, he was happily greeted by Ukraine, who was on the verge of passing out in the doorway. It looked as if she hadn't eaten in weeks and her eyes were puffy and red from crying.

"_Russia-chan would be so happy to see you_," she murmured, not even registering Nussia, who silently walked past her to stand by Russia's bedside. "_You have to forgive Bela, she's…she loves Russia-chan so much. He's the only one who can understand her. Even more so than me_."

Ukraine's eyes were heavy with weariness, but upon uttering the last phrase the all known feeling of guilt dominated. China felt a rush of sadness at the sight of it, knowing exactly how she felt. He remembered the day Russia called him to his office, where China discovered Ukraine was the motive behind almost all of Russia's bad behavior. They were as close as siblings came, and China knew seeing her little brother in such a state was pure torture.

"_I'll be here for awhile~aru_," he explained gently. "_Go get some rest. I'll call you if there's any change._" Ukraine gave a sad, exhausted smile and nodded, before exiting the room, thus allowing China to enter.

Nussia had been looking at Russia with something only comparable to deep longing. China remembered the way the small, sick nation's hand rested over Russia's, the way his skeletal fingers curled around one of Russia's own. How did it feel to be only part of something much bigger? How did it feel to be something incomplete? China didn't know and it made him feel worse.

He had taken Russia's other hand, and let his head rest against the palm, feeling the coolness of the other nation's skin. He remembered wishing more than anything Russia would wake up, but knew it was impossible. Moscow was still being rebuilt and although they had elected a new boss, there were still other seats to fill.

"_I just want to be one again_," Nussia had whispered.

"_Me too_," China sighed into Russia's limp hand.

"Leave me alone~aru," China demanded quietly.

"Like that's really going to make me?" Yellow gave a soft chuckle. "Love, I'm doing this for your own benefit and all in the fun of games! So let's start the next one shall we?"

"What is it this time~aru?"

"This one is simple. I want you to kill Nussia." China almost dropped the phone, but managed to keep a hold of it. His eyes widened and he felt his heart hammer away.

"W-What~aru?"

"You heard. Kill Nussia or I'll kill dear little Japan and Russia."

China gave a strangled cry which Yellow took it as a question of why.

"Easy love, Japan has been snooping about the place and he's causing a bit of trouble for me, and Russia…Russia just makes a good bargaining chip in this little game doesn't he?" China stared at Nussia's sleeping form and felt his eyes burn. No. There was no way someone could be that cruel.

"Go on love, I'll even talk you through it," Yellow offered.

"No, please, anything but that~aru!" he cried, becoming frantic. Although Nussia made him feel as if everything in his world was out of place, he didn't want to have an innocent's blood on his hands. Tiananmen Square flashed through his mind and he collapsed onto his trembling knees. He didn't want to go through that again. Also, Nussia was still a part of Russia, the only part he had left, even if it was the ugly part China didn't want. "Don't make me do that. I'll do anything but that!"

"Trust me, love," Yellow murmured. "It's either him, or Japan and your dear, dear Russia. Tokyo is already targeted. All I have to do is say the word and he'll be as good as minced meat. Blue _does_ have a fondness for mutilation. Russia…well, do I really have to elaborate?" China felt his breath quicken and tears begin to gather. It was either Nussia or the two nations he cared about most in the world.

China knew it wasn't a bluff. He knew better than to test Yellow on such matters. He had marked Nussia for a reason, and now that reason was hanging in front of China's face like a pendulum, mocking him. Japan was currently out with Germany and Italy, apparently going to question Austria and Hungary. He'd have no warning of an attack on his capital.

"You're wasting time, love," Yellow prompted. "Time Japan and Russia don't have."

Yellow _knew._

He knew who China was inevitably going choose.

China let out a shaky breath and stood up, trying to retain a bit of dignity. He had to be strong. He had to protect Japan and Russia, even at the cost of his own sanity.

"What do you want me to do~aru?" he asked, his voice strangely calm and monotone. The tears which had threatened to fall were suddenly gone, replaced by a blank look and cold eyes.

"I want you to drag him somewhere you can clean up easily and make it good. I want a show. I've once again gone through the trouble of placing cameras everywhere so I better get my money's worth. When you get there, proceed to execute him. Good luck, love. I'll be watching."

Dial tone.

It was getting painfully repetitive.

Wordlessly, China made his way to the couch were Nussia was sleeping, twitching every now and then with pain. China watched him for a moment, his black bangs shielding his eyes from sight as he reached down and grabbed the collar of Nussia's shirt.

"Wha-" Nussia cried as China jerked him off the couch, causing him to fall to the floor. Nussia's violet eyes widened in shock as he looked up to find China staring down at him with a vacant expression. "China, what are you doing?" he asked, coughing harshly afterwards. His government was having difficulties deciding when to announce Russia's newly elected boss as their leader.

China didn't answer him as he continued to drag the small nation, reaching out as he passed the fireplace and withdrew an iron fireplace poker. Hong Kong had obtained a great liking for fireplaces after he lived with England, and now China was resentful for the fact deep down.

"Where are you taking me?" Nussia questioned. "What are you going to do with that? China? China, you're scaring me!" Nussia began to struggle fearfully, his usually impassive eyes widening. China still didn't respond, dragging Nussia forcefully down a hall that eventually led to Hong Kong's private room. The fireplace poker swung low at China's side as he pulled Nussia into the bathroom across from Hong Kong's room.

"China, what are you doing?" Nussia repeated, now on the verge of tears. "Is big brother Russia going to wake up soon? Is that where we're going? Are we going to see big brother Russia? Am I going to be part of him again?"

China effortlessly tossed Nussia's thin body in the corner of the room, wordlessly closed the door behind him, and locked it. The small white-haired boy began to tremble as he brought his knees to his chest. China stared at him for a moment before advancing, until he stood only a few inches away from the huddled nation.

"Is Russia okay? What about the she-male?" Nussia questioned, tears now freely flowing. His pale little fingers entwined in the nearby shower curtain, drawing it half over himself. "My government is about to accept big brother Russia's boss as their own. I'll be one with him soon!"

"You're not going to be one with Russia again, Nussia~aru," China said, eyes widening slightly as he raised the fireplace poker above his head.

"Ch-China? What are you doing?" Nussia never got an answer as China brought the iron rod down on his head. China found he didn't hit hard enough, however, and Nussia gave a shriek of pain before crumbling onto his side. Blood trickled down his snowy hair as he looked up to China in horror.

"Th-that hurt," he whimpered. "China, that hurt!" China was frozen as Nussia slowly got to his knees, reaching upwards towards him. "Carry me, please. I want to see big brother Russia."

"_Japan, time for bed~aru!"_

"_Carry me…" _

Nussia's tiny hands were trembling as he reached out to China, his violet eyes (Russia's eyes) shimmering with tears as a trail of red trickled down his forehead. Suddenly, it wasn't Nussia sitting before him with his hands outstretched. It was everyone he had ever failed all rolled into one.

Korea was sitting before him now, the distrust and anger etched on his face at being replaced. Then he morphed into Japan, who barely registered his existence. Hong Kong and Taiwan came next, looking both apathetic and heart broken. Russia was last, his eyes full of betrayal and hurt. All of them were staring at him accusingly, and China felt as is the entire world was pressing down on him. He couldn't breath, he was suffocating.

"_Aniki, it hurts!"_

"_Hush, Korea, I'm here, it's going to be alright~aru."_

China felt his heart beat away in his ears.

"_China, will you stay with me tonight, just to wait out the storm?"_

"_Oh Hong Kong, of course~aru!"_

Why was it always him that got bullied? Why was he the one always left alone?

"_I made you a bracelet, China! For good luck!"_

"_Ah, Taiwan it's beautiful~aru." _

There was a loud crack, and a shock wave traveled through Nussia's body as his head crumpled into itself. China brought the poker up and brought it down again with another satisfying crunch.

Blood spattered the shower curtain as China brought the iron rod down again and again. The sharp hook caught in Nussia's skull and China jerked it away with a thick crack of bone as he brought it down repeatedly on the fragile little body.

"Die!" China heard himself yell. "Just die!" It wasn't just Nussia he was beating to death, but everything that had been piling up on him. The guilt, the loneliness, everything.

Nothing had been right ever since Russia was attacked. China's world had been destroyed by these killers, by his own stupid ignorance of everyone else's feelings. Korea was mad at him, Hong Kong just didn't care, Japan avoided him like the plague, he hadn't seen Vietnam in God knew how long, and Taiwan, although loving, always appeared anxious and uncomfortable around him.

"You all left me!" China screamed to no one in particular as he continued to bring the iron rod down again and again onto Nussia's lifeless corpse. Droplets of blood spattered against his cheeks as he bore down on the tiny body. "You all left me alone! I loved you all and you left me alone! I find someone to love and you get mad at me! SO ALL OF YOU DIE!"

With a final earsplitting crack, China brought the fireplace poker down for the final time, and crumbled to his knees, releasing the weapon, now covered in blood. It clattered to the floor, spattering more red droplets along the bottom of the toilet seat.

China panted as tears rolled down his face. He stared at the remains of Nussia, brown eyes shaking in their sockets. At first there was horror at the monstrosity that lay before him, white hair now scarlet and delicate limbs twisted awkwardly.

He killed Nussia.

He beat Nussia's brains in.

To his own horror, he felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. He was strangely at peace now, as if a heavy burden had been lifted off his shoulders. Yellow had been right after all. For once in a very long time, China felt as if his world was coming together again. Nussia wasn't supposed to exist anyway, didn't want to exist, China had fixed it.

With blood still splattered across his face, and rivers of tears trailing down his cheeks, China threw back his head and laughed. It wasn't Yellow's demented, cruel laugh, however, but a happy laugh. It was the laugh of a child that had just gotten what he wanted for Christmas. Everything suddenly felt like it was going to be okay. China laughed for a long time, closing his eyes as his chest burst with giggles.

Yes everything was going to be alright.

The phone rang down the hall, and China quickly picked himself up and hurried to retrieve it, wiping the blood on his pants as he went. He picked up the receiver. His voice sounded strangely lighter as he answered,

"Hello~aru?"

"Feel better, love?" Yellow's voice asked. China still felt the smile on his lips and his brown eyes closed gently, almost as if he were going to take a nap right there in the living room, covered in Nussia's blood.

"Yes."

"See what I mean now, love?"

"I do~aru."

"Better go clean up now, dear. He'll attract maggots."

Dial tone yet again.

Yes, it was becoming repetitive, although repetitive with a different twist as China merely hung up the phone.

The weight of what he had just done didn't hit him until he was in the shower, when he watched the trails of crimson whirl down the drain.

He didn't care if Yellow was watching him bathe and let out a quiet sob as the blood ran off of his body. He suddenly felt dirty. He killed a part of Russia, and now through the shower curtain saw the silhouette of the boy's twisted body. China knew he had to cover this up. If anyone found out he had killed an innocent nation, there was going to be hell to pay from all over the world. Quickly getting out and wiping himself dry with a towel, he stepped out and carefully avoided touching any of Nussia's blood.

He knew what he had to do as he gathered up his bloody clothes after wrapping the towel around his waist. Hurrying back down the hall and into the living room, he opened the fireplace and tossed the clothes in, where the flames devoured them hungrily, happy to hide China's shame.

With his hair still dripping, China ran to the guest room he'd been sleeping in, and put on a fresh pair of clothes. He had to be quick. Hong Kong and Taiwan could arrive at any minute.

He bolted back to the bathroom and quickly used the towel to wipe off the handle of the fireplace poker, leaving it next to Nussia's remains. He then made another trip to the fireplace and tossed the towel inside as well.

China's mind was on rapid speed as he made a final stop to the kitchen. He knew how to free himself from Yellow's game, even if it was only temporary. China let out a shaky breath and took a knife out of one of the drawers.

He was desperate. He sacrificed something within himself to keep both Japan and Russia safe, and now he had to get away. He had to cover it up and just go somewhere to rest. He had to be closer to Russia without Belarus claiming to have the authority to keep him away. Russia was all he thought about and Russia was all he wanted.

With a small cry, China plunged the knife deep into his own abdomen. A crimson stain spread through the fabric of his shirt. He let out a wail as blood welled up in his mouth and he collapsed to his knees, falling over on his side. It hurt much more than he expected it to, but he knew he wouldn't die. He was a nation after all.

Tenderly and eyes blurring with agony, China crawled back to the living room and knocked the phone off the hook, leaving a few bloodstains on the reciever. It fell to the floor in front of him and he wasted no time in calling Hong Kong's cell phone. He didn't want to call Taiwan and upset her any more than she was already going to be.

After the first three rings, Hong Kong picked up.

"Hello, Hong Kong speaking."

"H-Hong Kong," China gasped, fingers curling into the handle of the knife. Breathing was becoming difficult and already strings of black were weaving their way into his vision.

"China?" Hong Kong's usually emotionless voice raised an octave. "China, what's wrong?"

"The killer…" he began before groaning in pain.

"The killer what? Are you being threatened? Are you hurt?" China faintly heard Taiwan's voice in the background questioning what was wrong.

"The killer attacked me~aru," he panted, letting his head fall to the floor. The hand around the knife handle was slick with blood as the liquid plopped onto the carpet drop by drop. "They…they got N-Nussia!" he managed to choke out before he finally allowed himself to pass out.

Yes, he'd be closer to Russia soon.

And from the hospital in his comatose state, much to Ukraine's absolute horror, her baby brother began to bleed.

* * *

Okay, now do you see why we needed Nussia? God, I need to go read something fluffy after this. And to prove we are not crazy, Lucky and I have several other stories posted that don't revolve around murder so if you have the time it would make us oh so happy if you dropped a line. XD

Anyway, since you guys are so bad at guessing I give you the identites of all the killers:

Yellow - Paris Hilton

Green - Antarctica

White - Oprah

Red - The Jonas Brothers

Purple - The Rock (anyone remember him?)

Pink - Ven Diesel

Blue - Micheal Phelps

Black - Zwolf (you guys are good) XD


	13. The Chessboard Killer

Hey ya'll my speedy updates have ebbed, but I hope you enjoy this chapter. It opens up to the first killer's answer, which I hope to get to before Lucky returns, but I'm not having much faith -_-; I hope you enjoy and thank you all so much for your reviews! And I forget who it was, but good job for catching all the chapter titles were named after serial killers XD

Shout outs!

**LightBender, KatNinja **(update "Married" damn you!), **Plumville Amy, Lone Kunoichi**,** Kannna, koholint, silver windflame, VIITheChariot **(See? I updated now keep up "Breakdown Americana") **randomlvr1, Furi, ninjafox369, OrangeHue, IT'S ANON TIME, Thorro, IlluminatedShadow, dragoneian, keymonkey, Lochesh, Diclonius' Lilium, Slagathor, CheshireCGrinne, KibalurvesHinata, Cry-Wolf-And-Sing, , Verocat, Bell, pmpatg, SheWhoRunsWithScissors, nameREMMi, Miss Chelle, Kara2992, Compleatly Random Dissorder, luvjOi, greenpanic6, hurleysuki, mangarox14, Hiroshi-kun31, EmoLollipop, Koneko Otome, xYukii, AnimeDutchess, marmoki, and I Brake For Bishounen Boys**

Thank you guys! And we hope you enjoy! Whoever gets the 300th review gets something I swear!

**Disclaimer**: No owning!

* * *

"Italy!" Germany yelled after the retreating nation, instantly springing to his feet and bolting after him. Japan followed suit, and Hungary, after kissing Austria goodbye and ordering a less than enthusiastic Prussia to protect him, soon joined them. She, after all, had known Italy since he was small and saw herself as his big sister.

Germany forgot how fast Italy was able to run, and he, Japan, and Hungary were left coughing up dust as they blindly followed him. After what seemed like hours, the three nations found themselves before Italy's house and Germany wasted no time in barging in after the Italian.

He looked about the place for a moment, not spotting Italy. Japan and Hungary pulled up beside him, panting lightly but also searching.

"W-Where did he go?" Hungary questioned, beads of sweat on her brow. "God, everything's a mess out there." Germany was too busy storming around the kitchen to notice the outside scenery, blue eyes scanning every nook and cranny for the Italian.

"Italy-san sure is fast," Japan remarked, his black hair disheveled as he too glanced around the room. It was quiet for a moment, then Germany heard the gut wrenching shriek he knew only as Italy's. It was the most horrible sound he had ever heard in his long life. Italy screamed on many occasions out of sheer terror, but this…this was something else entirely, and it had come from somewhere in the living room.

"Italy!" Germany hollered, following the scream. The living room was empty when the three entered, but yet another scream alerted them to a door down the hallway leading off of it.

"The bathroom!" Hungary exclaimed, rushing down the hall without so much as glancing at the other two nations. She burst through the door and Germany followed behind her, feeling his eyes widen in horror at what lay within. Italy was in a bathtub full of water, clutching his older brother to his chest.

Italy's eyes were wide as saucers, while Romano's were half-lidded and lifeless. Italy was desperately holding his head above the water, although he was trembling terribly. Upon further inspection, Germany was able to see something metal digging into Romano's chin, forcing his neck straight. It was shaped like a fork and attached to a collar. Italy shifted in the water, and Germany saw yet another long piece of metal on the bottom of the collar and digging into Romano's sternum.

"Oh God, Ludwig! I can't get him out! I can't get him out!" Italy shrieked as he tried in vain to pull Romano's body out of the bath. Germany instantly snapped out of his assessment, and rushed forward, grabbing Romano's arm and yanking him out of the tub. Japan and Hungary assisted him by grabbing his other arm, water sloshing onto the floor as Romano was lowered to the tile.

Now that Romano was in clear view and lying on his back, Germany saw the strange device and immediately placed it. The restraining collar was known as a heretic's fork and was designed so the victim could not move their heads or bend their upper body.

Although Germany had long come to grips with his lack of detective skills, it didn't take a detective to figure out that the murder was simple. Place the heretic's fork around Romano's neck and have him lay down in a bathtub full of water. Once he lay down, due to the twin forks digging into him, there was no way for him to sit up. Romano had drowned.

The thing that scared him the most, however, was that the heretic's fork had been created by Spain during the Spanish Inquisition. This was Spain's invention around Romano's neck.

Another excess amount of water spilled onto the bathroom floor, and suddenly Italy was beside him, hands on either side of Romano's face, tears streaming down his cheeks. He was screaming in Italian and shaking his unresponsive brother. Romano merely stared blankly at the ceiling, his face white as a sheet.

"Japan!" Germany barked. "Go to the kitchen and get a knife. We have to get this off of him." The Asian nation gave a quick nod and instantly sprang to his feet, bolting out of the swinging bathroom door.

"Lovi!" Italy wailed, his tone hysterical. "Lovi, wake up! Please wake up!" Hungary scooted closer and tucked her long hair behind her ear before fixing Germany with a determined stare.

"You have to get Italy out of here," she demanded. Germany nodded before turning his attention to the devastated Italy. Hungary was right. Although Italy had shown remarkable maturity throughout the duration of the mystery, his brother had been victimized, and Germany was reminded that Italy was little more than a child.

"Italy! Italy, listen to me!" Germany ordered, cupping the Italian's face in his hands and forcing the smaller nation to look into his eyes. Italy's brown eyes were still wide, while the whites were completely red from crying.

"Ludwig, make Lovino wake up!" Italy sobbed, placing his own hands over Germany's much larger ones. "Make him wake up!"

"Listen, Feliciano!" Germany hissed, jerking his hands lightly to keep Italy's eyes from falling back down to his brother. "I need you to go to the living room and call Spain, okay?"

"S-Spain?" Italy questioned as if trying to remember who that was.

"Yes, call Spain and tell him what happened," Germany commanded sternly.

"Will he make Lovino wake up?" Italy asked, a faint surge of hope in his voice.

"I'm not sure, but I need you to do this for me. Can you?" Italy gave a frantic nod and Germany surprised himself by pulling Italy into a warm embrace. "It will all be okay," he whispered gently. Italy shivered in his arms and abruptly ran out the door as soon as Germany released him.

Japan returned a few seconds later carrying a large butcher knife, eyes wide as he stared down at Romano's lifeless body. "Here," was all he said as he handed Germany the blade. Germany took the leather collar between thumb and forefinger and forced the knife between Romano's neck and the material.

After a few jerks of the blade, the collar snapped, and Germany pulled it away, noticing the edges of the fork had pierced the flesh under Romano's chin. The eldest Italian brother's brown eyes were milky and dead, but Hungary suddenly took control and placed herself at Romano's head.

"Germany, we need to try CPR. He was drowned. I need you to give him fifteen chest compressions. After that I'll give him two breaths of air and you start them again." Germany nodded numbly, somehow knowing in the pit of his stomach that it was futile to try and revive him. "Japan, go out there and make sure Italy doesn't come back in here."

"Yes, Hungary-san," he said, getting to his feet once again to search for Italy. Germany placed the heels of his hands on Romano's chest, right over where the second fork had stabbed him, and waited for Hungary's orders. She pressed her mouth to Romano's parted lips and breathed in, brows furrowing. After the second breath, Germany began compressions wincing inwardly was he felt the pops and crackles of Romano's ribs.

He was no stranger to CPR. He'd been trained in it during war and had preformed it on several occasions. He knew it wasn't a gentle process, but the feeling and the noise always was enough to make him queasy. After fifteen compressions, Hungary gave him another two breaths, her wavy brown hair shielding Romano's pasty white face from view before she pulled away.

Germany felt his arms ache with the effort of each thrust, terror dawning on him as Romano remained unresponsive. How long had he been in the bathtub before Italy pulled him up? Romano's sopping wet uniform was cold against Germany's palms, meaning the bathwater had long since cooled.

Romano's lifeless body remained so as they continued CPR. Germany and Hungary switched positions after ten cycles, and Germany was forced to stare into Romano's blank face. He looked so much like Italy. Then again, they had been twins. It was enough to make his heart ache.

This could have been Italy. Surely the killers knew that the he, Italy, and Japan were trying to find out who they were. Perhaps, the target was actually meant to be Italy, but they found Romano here instead. The thought was terrifying as Germany pressed his lips against Romano's cold and clammy ones, breathing into him.

It was over. After what felt like an eternity, both Hungary and Germany were too exhausted to continue. Romano hadn't so much as twitched and his eyes retained that lifeless, empty stare. Germany pulled away and cradled his head in his hands, letting out a shuddering breath. He failed to save Romano and Italy was going to be in so much pain.

Romano had been mean and he'd been rude, but he was still Italy's other half, his twin. Italy adored Romano, and although Romano rarely showed it, he loved Italy. They were twins after all, they did things together. He felt Hungary's hand on his shoulder, but didn't bother to look up at her.

"We tried," she whispered, her voice quivering. "We tried."

"Germany-sama, Italy-kun is outside," Japan's voice sounded from somewhere above him. Again, he didn't bother to lift his head. It suddenly felt way too heavy to even fit on his shoulders. "I'm sorry. Spain is on his way." Everything was silent for a few minutes before Germany finally moved to stand up, blue eyes tired.

He looked from Romano's body, to Hungary's tear-streaked face, to Japan's solemn expression and sighed. He felt uncharacteristically weak and dreaded walking into the next room. Japan knelt by Romano's side and took hold of an arm that had bent awkwardly from where they had pulled him out of the tub. He was about to place it back at the Italian's side then paused.

"Germany-sama," Japan said as he lifted the arm. "Look." The sopping wet sleeve was pulled away, revealing deep gashes in the pale flesh underneath, along with bruises and various other lacerations.

"Oh God," Hungary gasped, placing her hand over her mouth. "He was tortured." Germany felt the beginnings of a headache start to pound in his temples and he was unsure of what to do. How was he going to tell Italy that his brother was dead let alone tortured?

"Germany-sama, go be with Italy-kun. Hungary-san and I will take care of Spain-san when he arrives and let him know what happened," Japan said, bowing his head in what Germany assumed was some sort of prayer.

"Go on, we'll handle everything," Hungary agreed, also bowing her head briefly. Germany gave a numb nod as he watched Hungary tenderly close Romano's half-lidded eyes.

On shaky legs, Germany climbed to his feet, blond hair a mess as he tried his best to slick it back once more. He had to look at least mildly presentable when he delivered such terrible news. It never once crossed his mind why it had to be him that told Italy, he just knew that it was his responsibility as Italy's best friend to comfort him in the aftermath.

"I'll be back," Germany said as a decoration. It hung uselessly in the stale air and really didn't mean anything, just a staple to this packet of misery. Keeping his face controlled, Germany left Hungary and Japan with Romano.

It didn't take him long to find Italy sitting on a couch in the living room, his usually vibrant brown eyes wide and hollow as he rocked back and forth. His detective clothes were sopping wet and not too far away, Germany spotted the abandoned bowler hat. It looked so lonely and isolated that Germany picked it up before sitting down next to Italy. He felt the dampness of the couch through the seat of his pants, but ignored it.

"He's dead, isn't he, Ludwig?" Italy asked, his usually cheerful voice monotone and dead. Germany thought a voice like that shouldn't be capable of coming out of such a happy ball of light like Italy. He risked a glance at the other nation and found Italy's brown eyes wide as he stared at something on the wall across from them.

Germany followed his line of sight, found nothing but paneling, and let his own eyes drop to the bowler hat he was now unconsciously toying with. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out how to respond to Italy's earlier question, but was surprised when Italy spoke again. "It's okay. I want to hear it from you. You're my best friend, you know?" Germany closed his eyes briefly, shoved his previous exhaustion to the side, and looked at Italy's profile again.

"Yes. He's dead. I'm sorry." His voice was unrecognizable as it limped past his lips like some crippled animal. Italy's breath hitched, and he grit his teeth, bowing his head so a curtain of reddish-brown hair blocked his eyes from view. Germany was about to say something, when Italy lifted his face and looked at him again, tears streaming down his face and a tiny, shaky smile spread across his face.

"S-See?" he sniffed, using the back of his hand to wipe his eyes. "It…It doesn't hurt so…" he trailed off as his face crumpled and sobs overtook him. He buried his face in his hands, diminutive frame shuddering as he cried.

"Oh, Italy, I'm so sorry," Germany whispered softly, wrapping an arm around Italy's shoulders and letting the smaller nation hide his face in his chest. Italy let out another heart shattering sob and gripped the front of Germany's uniform like a lifeline, much like he had when he felt Romano's death. Germany was not one to comfort people by holding them. He was more likely to give someone a pat on the shoulder and a few kind words, but Italy was different.

Germany shifted on the sofa, so Italy could move in closer. The larger nation wrapped both arms around the crying nation, pulling him onto his lap and stroking the back of his head with his free hand. "Shh, I'm here."

Italy pushed himself even further into Germany's embrace, and Germany tightened his hold accordingly. He rocked back and forth gently, closing his own eyes and letting his cheek rest on top of Italy's head. He felt the other nation's tears dampen the front of his uniform and continued to murmur soft apologies and reassurances.

After what felt like an hour, Spain burst through the door, much the same way Germany had done not too long ago, brown eyes wild with panic. It didn't take him long to spot Germany and Italy on the couch, and upon seeing the current emotional state of the younger Italian brother, instantly began shaking his head.

"No, no," he breathed, tears welling in his eyes. "Please, anything but that. Not Lovino." His voice cracked, and he lifted a shaky hand to cover his quivering lips.

"He's in the bathroom," Germany directed, continuing to gently rock Italy back and forth. "Japan and Hungary are with him. I'm sorry." Spain nodded quickly, closing his eyes as an onslaught of tears fell down his cheeks, hand still clamped over his mouth.

"God," he whimpered past it. His other arm wrapped around himself, and to Germany, the gesture symbolized the other nation trying to keep himself from falling apart. Spain was trembling horribly and he collapsed onto his knees, quiet sobs making his shoulders quake.

Germany merely watched from the couch, unwilling to leave Italy in favor of Spain. Besides, the devastation lasted only for a brief moment, then Spain rose again on shaky legs and stumbled down the hall into the bathroom.

Germany heard the gut wrenching wail not long after, knowing Spain found Romano's body. Hungary and Japan entered the living room silently seconds later to let him grieve in peace. Hungary sat down behind Italy, rubbing his back tenderly.

"I'm so sorry, dear," she whispered gently. Germany noticed Italy's fingers tighten in the front of his uniform. Japan stood awkwardly to the side, his eyes downcast, for once seemingly unsure of himself.

"We'll talk later," Germany said, before returning his full attention to Italy. Japan gave a curt bow and turned to head out the door.

"If you need me, you know my number," he said as he slowly walked to the front door. "And Italy-kun, I'm sorry…for your loss," he finished lamely before straightening the collar of his white uniform and taking his leave.

"How about we go to my house and I'll make you some pasta?" Hungary offered. Italy gave a shuddering gasp and pulled away from Germany to wipe his puffy eyes. He didn't pull away entirely, and so Germany didn't release him.

"Pasta?" he croaked, sniffing rather loudly.

"Yes," Hungary laughed. It was a strained laugh, but Germany gave her props for trying. It seemed to work, however, and Italy merely let the side of his head rest against Germany's chest as he gave a weak smile. Of course pasta would help heal the hurt.

"I'll even eat some if you want," Germany offered, looking to the side and blushing as Italy squealed in delight, wrapping his arms around the larger nation's neck.

"Hungary makes the best pasta! Oh, you'll love it, _Doitsu_!" Germany, not believing Italy had recovered so quickly from Romano's death, looked into his eyes and still found them full of agony and tears. He was just putting on a brave face, something he wasn't known to do.

Somehow Germany knew Italy would end up in his bed later tonight, bawling his eyes out, but found himself not caring. In fact, he welcomed it. He just wanted the stupid, annoying Italy back, and if coddling him was going to do it, he'd subject himself to the torture.

Suddenly, there was loud banging on the front door and Italy tilted his head curiously. Hungary's brows furrowed in concern as she looked at him. There was a second round of knocks and Hungary gave a sigh, standing up and flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"I'll tell them this is a bad time," she offered, heading to the door. Whoever it was, was relentless and Germany felt the headache from earlier begin to make itself known again.

As soon as Hungary twisted the knob, Germany was surprised to see a frantic Iceland rush past her, making a beeline for Italy, who's eyes widened slightly in shock at the sight of the unexpected guest.

"Iceland!" another person shouted after him. Denmark emerged in the doorway seconds later, panting as if he had run a marathon. "Iceland, slow down! damn!" Denmark attempted to enter the house and let out a relatively high-pitched squeal as his boot caught on the frame and he tumbled to the ground. "I'm okay," he mumbled, pushing himself back on his knees.

"Now's really not a good time," Hungary growled, not making a move to shut the door and frowning menacingly. Denmark merely lifted an eyebrow, before hurrying after Iceland, who had thrown himself on the ground at Italy's feet.

"Please, you have to find Norway!" he begged, face pressed to the carpet. Denmark sighed as he knelt down at Iceland's side and gripped the other nation's shoulders, forcing him to his knees.

"For God's sake man, show some pride," Denmark growled, forehead damp with sweat. Iceland shrugged his hands away, eyes brimming with tears as he crawled closer to Italy.

"Please, Norway's been gone for almost a week! You have to find him, please!"

"I'm really sorry," Denmark apologized hastily as Hungary marched back into the living room, fixing them both with a threatening glare. Then to Iceland he hissed, "Look, they said this was a bad time. We need to leave. You know how Norway is, the bastard probably wandered off somewhere to stare off into space and lost track of time."

"For an entire week?" Iceland asked shrilly. Denmark blew through his lips, frowning as he grabbed Iceland's upper arm in a vice-like grip and attempted to yank him away.

"Did you stop to look outside? Italy has a lot to deal with right now without you piling this on him. Norway's fine. We went to his capital earlier today, remember?" Iceland shook his head and resisted Denmark's pulling.

"No!" he cried, attempting to pry Denmark's fingers from his arm. "He'd call me! Norway wouldn't disappear like this without letting us know he was okay!"

"Iceland, enough!" Denmark shouted, losing his patience. "They can't help right now! We'll keep looking for him by ourselves!" Iceland ignored him and turned to Italy again.

"You're trying to find the killers, right? You can find Norway too! Please…" Iceland trailed off, eyes shadowing in sorrow. "He's…he's my…_brother._" Germany flinched and looked down to see Italy's mouth begin to quiver and his eyes well up all over again. Germany let an angered expression darken his features and he turned it onto the two nations huddled before him.

"Get him out of here, _now_," Hungary snarled. Denmark's face paled with fright at the sudden hostility and he started to pull Iceland all over again.

"Iceland, they won't help if you act like this. Come on, we need to leave."

"Get off of me!" Iceland shrieked, spinning around and biting Denmark's hand. Denmark gave a yell that was more out of shock than pain, and cradled his injured limb to his chest.

"_Iceland_…" he breathed in horror. Germany was also shocked at such a display of aggression coming from Iceland of all nations. He saw the bite on Denmark's skin begin to swell and redden. Iceland paid no attention however, and grasped Italy's hands within his own.

"Please, I'm begging you! I'll do anything you ask, just find Norway!" Iceland was crying now, voice cracking as he continued his pleas. "Please, I saw what they did to Switzerland! I was there when Russia was attacked! I-If anything like that happened to Norway…I don't know what I'd do!"

"Wait, you were there the night Russia was attacked?" Germany found himself asking despite the situation.

"Yes, I arrived after Korea pulled China out of the house, but that's not important! I came because I know you're trying to find out who the killers are, and Norway might be in danger! Please!" Iceland wailed, releasing Italy's hands and letting his fingers knot into his snowy white hair. He lowered his frantic eyes to the ground. "Just bring him back! Bring Norway back to me!" Then in a broken voice he whimpered, "I just want my brother." Iceland buried his face in his hands and began to sob.

"Iceland," Denmark murmured, his own expression saddened. He didn't reach out and try to pull Iceland away like before, but still stood close.

Germany heard a soft cry near his ear and let his expression soften as Italy pulled away from him, kneeling in front of Iceland's trembling form and wrapping his arms around the crying nation.

"Please don't cry," Italy begged, bringing Iceland's face into his chest. "We'll find your brother, just don't cry." Iceland let out a few shuddering gasps, but didn't pull away from him. Italy hugged him for awhile, hiding his own teary face in the top of Iceland's head. Germany looked at Hungary and found her leaning against the frame of the open front door, her expression neutral.

"I'm sorry," Denmark sighed again, pulling Iceland away from Italy when he finally stopped crying. He didn't try to resist this time, blue eyes agonizingly dull and wet. "He and Norway haven't been apart for more than a few days at a time and even then they call."

"We'll find Norway," Italy promised, looking Iceland directly in the eye. "No one else needs to lose their brother." Iceland gave a nod and a grateful smile.

"Thank you," he whispered as Denmark forced him to his feet.

"Again, I'm really sorry about him," the taller nation sighed. "We'll see ourselves out." Just as he said this, a hollow-eyed Spain made his way into the living room, seemingly oblivious to everyone inside. His wavy brown hair was a mess and fresh tears trickled down his face. Without ever blinking, he made his way to the open door and would not have stopped had not Hungary spoken up.

"Spain, where are you going?" Spain turned to them all and answered in the most wretched excuse for a voice Germany ever heard.

"Out." It was as if everything that made Spain had died along with Romano. He turned back around again, the motion making it seem as if his neck were an assortment of rusty joints, before heading down the walkway and out of sight.

* * *

Japan walked silently up the steps to America's house, feeling that ever-deepening pit in his stomach churn hungrily. He had a lot to think about now that Romano was dead. Italy might have very well been the true target, meaning the killers were aware they were snooping around trying to find out who they were. Despite this, he knew stopping the investigation was out of the question, for they'd be just as bad as the killers if they sat idly by while nations crumbled, but they definitely had to be more careful.

It was starting to get dangerous, and although Japan wanted to comfort Italy just as much as Germany and Hungary, for once he felt as if he truly didn't belong with the European nations. It was obvious to him that Germany cared about Italy to the point where it blurred the line between friendship and something else, and Hungary had practically raised Italy when he was under the Holy Roman Empire. They were like a family, and Japan felt like an outsider, intruding on something private as they held and stroked the sobbing Italy.

So he left and decided to go where he knew he'd be welcomed and needed. They weren't going to be investigating anything today, not with Italy in the current state he was in. Besides, in the aftermath of such an attack, Italy had a lot to do, including grieve.

Unlike last time when he was stal--_spying _on America, he merely stood on the front porch and knocked, running his hands over his uniform to make sure there were no unwanted creases or wrinkles. He took a deep breath and shifted the plastic bag he was carrying from his left hand to his right, slightly nervous, but keeping his calm demeanor. He really hoped the American soldier or, what was his name again? Albert, Gilbert, Robert, Susan? Oh well, he just hoped he wouldn't be confronted by the soldier's gun again.

After a moment, the door opened a crack, and America peaked his head out cautiously before seeing who it was, and grinned happily. Japan felt his own mouth twitch into a smile and he gave a polite bow.

"America-kun, I'm sorry I came with no notice, but-" he was interrupted when his breath was knocked out of him by America tackling him to the ground in a tight hug. Japan dropped the bag as he gave a yelp of surprise, many of the items rolling over the porch.

"Japan!" America yelled happily. Japan grunted as he hit the ground, but his smile didn't fade and he lifted a hand and patted America on the back.

"I am pleased to see you too," he breathed out, closing his eyes and letting the side of his head tip against America's. "Um, I'm not as young as you though, so your displays," Japan took a moment to breathe as America loosened his arms, "of affection are rather…taxing on my person."

"Oops! Sorry, Japan, I forget how awesome my strength is!" America's hair was soft against Japan's cheek and he was saddened slightly when America pushed himself up on his arms to look down at the other nation.

"Again, I apologize if I have interrupted anything important." Japan felt slightly trapped, but America's smile eased the worry. The setting sun dipped behind the other nation's head, silhouetting his features momentarily and hiding that beautiful smile. Japan gave a quiet laugh and pushed himself to his elbows. America scooted back to give the other nation room to sit up, closing his own eyes in a smile.

"You know you're always welcome around here, Japan," he reminded. Japan opened his eyes and immediately felt his smile fade when he spotted America's right eye. A bluish bruise circled it, while it was swollen and half-lidded.

"America-kun," he murmured sadly, reaching out his fingers and gently touching the wound. America flinched and attempted to turn his head away, but was stopped by Japan's other hand. "It's okay," Japan assured, sitting up all the way and leaning in closer to inspect the damage.

"Don't…I mean, it's not…it's not _that_ bad," America finished lamely, his blue eyes downcast as shame flashed within them. Japan felt something tighten around his heart and squeeze. He removed his hands and turned away to gather up the fallen items. "I'm really happy you came by."

Japan turned once he retrieved what was revealed by the lights of the house to be ointments, an icepack, and bandages. He gave America a rare, small, smile and helped him to his feet. They met each other's eyes as America stood, and then froze. The taller nation blinked after a tense, heart-pounding moment, not releasing Japan's hand as expected. The Asian nation felt his cheeks flush as he noticed America's fingers were gently entwining with his own.

"I want to show you something!" America exclaimed suddenly, blue eyes bright with joy. "It's awesome!" Japan took a deep breath and shook his head roughly.

"Uh, but America-kun, your eye!" he said, stumbling a bit as America led him down the porch and into the surrounding forest. Japan sputtered a bit as a few branches hit his face and a leaf found its way into his mouth. After spitting the intruding plant out he began babbling all over again, "Are we going into the woods? I-I don't think that's a good idea! I mean, not because it's with you or anything, but I mean, there are killers running around and perhaps they're hiding in there and we'll be alone, and it's getting a little dark, and-" Japan gave a yelp as his boot caught in a upturned root and he stumbled into America's back.

"Come on Japan, it's not that far in," America laughed, helping the smaller nation back on his feet. "And if the bad guys show up, I'll protect you! Promise!" Japan sighed and gave another smile, brows lifting in an expression of mock exasperation.

"I'm sure you'll do so gallantly," he sighed, letting his own hand tighten around America's. America flashed him a grin and a thumbs up with his free hand, then starting towing Japan behind him once more.

America had been right about it not being too far in, for after a moment of nothing but chirping birds and singing insects, Japan faintly heard the noise of running water. Sure enough, not long after, they came to a hill that sloped off into a good sized stream. Japan looked around the area, not spotting anything interesting in the fast approaching darkness.

"So, what is this 'awesome thing' you wanted to show me?" Japan asked.

"There," America prompted, pointing at the top of a tree growing out over the sloshing water. Japan squinted against the fading light and found a ratty rope dangling from one of the branches. He let his eyes follow the braided trail down and saw that it ended in a knot just three inches shy of the surface of the stream.

The thing looked decrepit, almost like it was about to unravel itself and fall to its death within the moving water. Thus, Japan failed to see the 'awesome factor' America dragged him all the way out here to show.

"I don't understand," Japan voiced.

"Some kids probably hung it there years ago," America explained, removing his glasses and placing them within the folds of his jacket. "It's gone unused for a long time, so I plan to fix that." Japan gasped as he stared at his companion with disbelief.

"America-kun, it's half-decayed! You can't seriously expect it to hold you up!"

"Sure it can! I'll just think low fat thoughts!" Japan felt his cheeks burn yet again as America released his hand in order to remove his bomber jacket, letting it fall to the ground in a crumpled heap. Japan was about to protest further, but stopped himself as America bent down to remove his shoes.

The collar of the American's white shirt was pushed back by his movements, and Japan saw a fresh line of bruises decorated the back of his neck, creating a sort of hand print. It was worse than last time. Japan let his hands ball into fists as an unusual spurt of fury boiled in his stomach. It was absolutely disgusting and dishonorable. It made him blanch to think about it, but he promised not to tell.

It hadn't been any of business anyway, and it was his responsibility to obey America's wishes on the matter. He had been stalk--_spying_ on America under the assumption that he had been a murderer, but he had been wrong. Instead, he found out something deeply private and disturbing that actually left him, _Japan_, in tears. Because of his deep shame in not being able to control his emotions upon finding the truth about America's injuries, he insisted on being allowed to treat America's wounds, much to the other nation's strange delight.

So here he was, watching in utter horror as America jumped across the gap in the stream and latched onto the half-decayed rope, swinging wildly while giggling with glee.

"A-America-kun!" Japan cried, rushing over to where the rocks jutted out over the stream, worry etched all over his face. "You're going to fall!"

"I might!" America called back, the rope making an arch and bringing America only a few feet away from where Japan stood. Japan unconsciously reached his arms out, trying to grab the other nation. "I can't swim either!"

"W-What!?" Japan sputtered, edging as close to the tip of the rock as possible. "_Baka, _have you lost your mind!?"

"No, just walking on the wild side!" America yelled, leaning back on his pathetic excuse for a swing. The branch the rope was tied around groaned in protest, on the verge of snapping.

"You're going to fall in the water and drown yourself!" Japan exclaimed, now leaning out over the water with his arms stretched as far as they could go. America looked over his shoulder at the slightly panicked Japan and gave a grin.

"Really? Even if I did this?" America questioned in a mockingly shocked tone, now jerking the groaning rope up and down. Japan felt the beginnings of a heart attack threaten.

"S-Stop that!" Japan was practically begging. He looked to the top of the branch and saw the partially dissolved fibers begin to unwind. Coming to the end of his English vocabulary, Japan resorted to yelling in his own language. "_Sutoppu_! _Kore kiri ga nai! Omae baka darou?_"

"I don't speak French!" America called out in a sing-song voice, now twisting in the air along with bobbing up and down. Japan felt dread spread throughout his entire being as a loud snap rang throughout the forest. America's smile faded as he looked upwards to discover the rope holding him suspended above the stream being held together by one measly strand. "Oh, crap!" he managed to choke out as the rope finally broke, sending the other nation into the water with a shout of surprise. There was a giant splash as the American disappeared beneath the surface, the top of the rope gently floating down the babbling surface.

Japan instantly fell to his knees, scanning the water, brown eyes wide and terrified as he continued to yell obscenities in Japanese. The ripples calmed and the stream looked untouched as Japan began running frightened fingers through his hair.

Suddenly, the water right below the rock Japan had stationed himself on rippled with surfacing bubbles, and not two seconds later, out sprang America, who wrapped his soaking wet arms around Japan's shoulders, and to the other nation's horror, dragged him in.

Japan felt himself hit the freezing water, too shocked to move for a second, before scrambling out of America's arms and clawing to the surface, gasping for air as his head broke the top. It felt as is a thousand icy knives were stabbing into his flesh as he sputtered and choked. His fingers found the slippery rock America had just pulled him off of, and he scrambled on top of it, chest heaving as he gasped for air, and teeth chattering from the horrible cold that seeped through his now sopping uniform.

Japan crouched and shivered, brown eyes now in danger of simply popping out of their sockets. Upon hearing laughter, he stiffly turned his head to find an equally wet America sitting next to him, blond hair plastered over his eyes and a stupid grin on his face.

"I-I th-thought y-you s-said you cou-couldn't s-swim," Japan stuttered through chattering teeth.

"I lied," America said simply. Japan's eyes narrowed as America burst into giggles again at the sight of the other nation's less than happy expression.

"Really? Well, in that case," Japan began, lifting one hand and pressing it to the other nation's face, thus shoving him back into the stream. There was another shriek from America, who once again disappeared below the surface. It was only a second later that he too sputtered to the surface, coughing and flailing his arms, trying to grab onto the rock above him.

Rather than be angry, which was Japan's first response, he felt another smile pull its way onto his face. It was just so funny. The way America's blue eyes bulged and the way his fingers slipped on the rock as he tried to pull himself out. He looked like a flopping fish caught in a net, and Japan began to laugh, not caring that he was cold, and his neat, white uniform was now utterly ruined by slimy stream water.

Strangely, it felt good to laugh. Here, with America, it was as if today's events had never happened. It was as if Romano's death were simply a dream and all that existed was this stream and their childish antics.

"Glad to see you think it's funny!" America snapped, frowning as he finally was able to get a hold of the slippery rock and pull his sopping wet body out of the stream.

A lash of guilt struck Japan as soon as America began shaking the water out of his hair, and Japan's laughing quieted until it was replaced by a burdened look. Romano's dead body flashed through his mind along with Italy's pain. Why was he laughing at a time like this? So soon after another nation was killed--a nation who happened to be the brother of one of his closest friends.

He suddenly wanted to curl into himself and go to sleep as he remembered the last thing he said to China, who was also dealing with the loss of someone precious to him. He bowed his head and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, unaware that he had started crying. He was being so stupid and instantly felt ashamed for getting so emotional. It wasn't like him at all.

"Hey," he heard America whisper gently and gasped as he felt the other nation pull him into an embrace. "I'm not mad." Japan instantly froze up, feeling the American's skin burning even through the icy wet clothes.

"It's not that," Japan sighed, calming himself and trying to gently pull away from America.

"What's wrong then? You're never this upset. Over _anything,_" America observed, thankfully releasing Japan and sitting back so he could look him in the eye. Japan hurriedly wiped his eyes again on his dripping sleeve and took a deep breath.

"Romano is dead," he reported, his tone strangely flat, as if he himself could hardly believe it. America's face was shocked, then it saddened.

"That's terrible. Was it the killers?" Japan nodded. "How?"

"He was drowned." America flinched and looked over his shoulder at the stream.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that. If I would have known, I never would have…" he trailed off, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Japan looked up at him and gave a reassuring smile.

"Strangely enough, I wasn't thinking about that," Japan mused, his tone slightly airy.

"What were you thinking about then?" America asked, letting his pinky twist around in his ear to get the water out. Japan didn't answer for a moment, letting his eyes drift down to his hands.

"How happy, but stupid you were," he finally said, looking up to America with a smile.

"Pfft, you sound like England, only nicer." Japan gave another laugh. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, especially around America for some reason. It was so utterly strange, Japan had a hard time believing it. He and America talked and they had always been friends. The only time they had really hurt each other was World War II, but that was something they had put behind them. Still, America never made him feel so…happy. Then another wave of guilt came, threatening to swallow him for even thinking about it. Even though World War II was in the past, he still remembered what America did to him and what he did to America.

"I'm sorry," he found himself muttering to the smooth black stone beneath them. "I shouldn't be enjoying myself, not when Italy-kun is so upset." He felt America's hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, don't think like that," the other nation said. "Italy doesn't need you to be depressed to know you care about him."

"I didn't even know Romano that well," Japan murmured almost inaudibly. "But Italy-kun is my friend, and I'd feel bad if I were to enjoy myself while he deals with so much loss." There was a sigh, and Japan felt America's hand move to his face, causing him to look up. America's palm felt so warm, and in his shivering, Japan found himself leaning against it. His insides suddenly felt as if they were made of warm soup, and they sloshed within his body, absolutely useless as he met the bright blue of America's eyes.

"Will it help if I told you I've been thinking about the killers too?" Japan raised an eyebrow.

"It depends," he answered, doubtful it would. At this, America gave a cheeky grin and patted Japan's cheek, thus forcing Japan back to his senses. The Asian nation merely pushed the hand away and scoffed. America's grin still didn't fade.

"Well, the night you were stalking-"

"Spying!" Japan interrupted.

"Spying on me, and you found out about…well, you know," America paused uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his head. Japan noticed through the white of his shirt another dark blotch of a bruise. He bit his lower lip and focused on what America was saying. "You told me the reason that you were there was because you suspected me of being one of the killers."

"Although not anymore," Japan reminded.

"Yeah, yeah, we both know I didn't do it, but something you said really struck me. It was about the horse hair you found." Japan's eyebrows lifted.

"What about it?"

"Well, doesn't Poland have ponies?" Japan felt his breath catch in his throat.

"He does, doesn't he?" Japan said, realization dawning on him. "But," he held up a hand before he could pursue it. "The hair we found was incredibly old, way too old to come from a living animal."

"Maybe the clue was actually what the hair came from," America prompted. "What if the person who left it, just wanted you to see that it was a horse hair, regardless of how old it was?" Japan frowned, thinking.

"You mean someone was trying to tell us it was Poland?" America nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes. Look, I'm sure you asked Korea about this, but both Poland and Lithuania were there the night Russia was attacked."

"Yes, but you were the one that brought them there," Japan reminded.

"Yeah, but listen," America urged. "The night I picked them up was a Friday night. I was going over to Russia's house because Friday at the bar they have Happy Hour early and whoever downs a whole two bottles of vodka through a funnel gets free shots for the night. Russia and I always plan a week in advance for it, _always_."

"I fail to see where you're going with this," Japan muttered.

"You'll see, just let me finish," America insisted. "Well, I always fly over for the night, because Russia likes these crazy Martinis they make, where they put bourbon and tequila together and its nasty, but he likes to watch me drink them because I start to spurt random stuff and this one time he randomly brought one of his sister's dresses with him and I was so wasted-"

"America-kun," Japan interrupted yet again. America coughed and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"Heh, sorry. England's bad drinking habits rubbed off on me, I guess," he laughed. "Anyway, I was flying over St. Petersburg, you know, the city Nussia is centered around, and stopped there for gas. That's where I picked up Poland and Lithuania. They were screaming about how Moscow was destroyed. Instantly, I sprang into action and rushed to save the day! But, that's not what I'm trying to get at. Lithuania was worried sick, but Poland was acting funny."

"Acting funny, how?" Japan inquired, suddenly seeing where America was going.

"He looked…happy. He was happy Russia was attacked. Now, before you say anything, we all know Poland isn't the biggest fan of Russia, but he looked like a friggin' kid at Christmas. Now, this is just a guess, but I find it kind of strange that they just _happened _to be in St. Petersburg right after Moscow was destroyed."

"Yes, but Russia was in Khabarovsk when he was attacked," Japan countered.

"I'm not saying Poland was the one who attacked Russia, I'm saying he's probably one of the killers that helped destroy Moscow," America replied. "My theory is that Lithuania is acting as an alibi."

"An alibi?" America's face suddenly darkened as he nodded.

"Liet is one of my closest friends. He's noble and will sacrifice anything to keep those he cares about safe. He and Poland go way back. However, I know he doesn't agree with killing nations, so he left the horse hair to tell us it was Poland, unable to tell us himself."

"But," Japan argued. "That was Switzerland's murder, not Russia's attack. Why would Lithuania be with him in the first place anyway?"

"I know," America agreed. "But think about it, you, Italy, and Germany seem to think they're operating under a single nation. What if that nation promised Poland that if he killed Switzerland, he'd have the other killers destroy Russia. It's not as far fetched as it sounds if you think about it. Also with Lithuania, he's been with Poland for years upon years. Russia did terrible things to him and, although I doubt it, Lithuania has every reason to want Russia dead." America released a breath and frowned. "I don't want to believe Liet is a killer, and I don't. I think he's offering Poland protection, that's all. He might also be offering the killers a place to stay. All I know is that he's not completely innocent."

"You still didn't answer the big question, which puts a hole in your theory," Japan reminded. "Why would Lithuania be with Poland during Switzerland's murder to place the horse hair?" America hummed for a few moments.

"I'm thinking _after_ is more like it," America explained. "Poland tells Lithuania everything, so it would come as no surprise if he told him that he was going to kill Switzerland. That's a lot to deal with. I know Lithuania is constantly torn because he's the kind of guy that wants to make everyone happy. He didn't want to turn Poland in, but didn't want to do nothing either, so he left the horse hair, hoping someone would figure it out."

"But where would he get the horse hair?" Japan asked.

"Well, from me of course," America laughed as if it were painfully obvious. "Before The Great Depression, Lithuania and I lived together for a long time. Before he left, I gave him this old toy of Canada's. Canada lost interest in it two seconds after he got it. It was a stupid thing, a little maid with a broom. A broom who's bristles were made of horse hair. I told him to throw it away, but I think he kept it."

"I see," Japan concluded. "So that's why you think Poland is one of the killers and Lithuania an accomplice?"

"Righto!" America piped, grinning. "Lithuania is a good guy, so it makes sense that he wants to help you, especially if he's caught on the inside."

Japan pondered, then sighed. Yes, it was going to be difficult, but America's theory made sense. Lithuania wanted to protect Poland, and it made even more sense when America described Poland as being happy when he heard Russia was attacked.

"Thank you," Japan said suddenly, standing up. "I have a lot to report to Italy and Germany." America stood up as well, picking up his bomber jacket.

"The hero always helps," America proclaimed. "And your lips are blue."

"What?" Japan said, caught off guard when America let his coat rest over the smaller nation's shoulders. It was warm and smelled like smoke, undoubtedly from the planes America flew.

"You heard. You can come back to my house and borrow some of my clothes. You're soaked."

"Who's fault is that?" Japan reminded, voice flat.

"Never the hero's!"

Japan rolled his eyes, and found that regretful happiness strumming away in his chest, guilt its partner in crime.

* * *

Yeah, hope that wasn't boring. Oh and I forgot to mention last chapter, but I would love to see fanart of China killing Nussia. Is that weird? XD

So yeah, translations

Japan says "Stop" then, "This is pointless" and then "Are you stupid or something?" Of which the answer is yes. XD


	14. Monster of Miramichi

Angel is back and I think I did good on the update front. Okay, there are A LOT of clues in this chapter and I'm talking about A LOT! See if you can find them. XD Enjoy!

Also shout outs for everybody!

**spocketlaine, silver windflame, xblkdragonx, Victoria Wan **(who reviewed every chapter despite being creeped out), **devsHaruhi-x, Plumville Amy, dragoneian, Anomaly E, LightBender **(your fangirl is pleased!), **Eraty, randomlvr1** (have my babies. I'm not kidding), **KibalurvesHinata, marmoki, Holly Lawliet, Miss Chelle, Fluffo, Furi, PuppetMasterPuppet, The Obsidian Quill, RingoNeko 201, Thorro, usagi-ninja, FirePhantom24** (Marry me), **HandInTheCookieJar, IlluminatedShadow, Soy Soy Joo, xYukii, greenpanic6, EmoLollipop, ninjafox369, luvjOi, Cry-Wolf-And-Sing, Kara2992, VIITheChariot **(your move, woman!)**, , pmpatg, AnimeDutchess, koholint, and mangarox14 **(300th reviewer who has a oneshot now in her name go read it and restore Angel's shattered confidence!)

**Disclaimer: **Hetalia is not owned by Angel or Lucky, but in my head England is God of a New World (lolz Death Note joke)

* * *

England was grumbling as he walked to France's house, thick brows furrowed in an impressive display to try and seem annoyed. However, in reality, although England was stalking with all the snark of a fashion diva and there might as well have been a tiny storm cloud drifting above his head, England was in all actuality, worried. He called France several times to try and see how he was holding up since the Moscow incident, but had been greeted by the answering machine every time.

"_Bonjour!_ You've reached the home of France, or if you prefer, Francis Bonnefoy! I'm obviously not able to come to the phone right now, because either I am out creating true love or tending to my roses, so leave a message after the beep and may your day be filled with love and flowers!"

After the fifth time hearing, "may your day be filled with love and flowers," England felt the most horrible sensation curl in his chest like a deranged viper. It didn't take him long to place the feeling as some strange form of anxiety. Of course, coming to this conclusion, England simply decided to ignore it for awhile, but thoughts of the horrible things that might have happened to France kept pestering him as the wretched day wore on.

What if the killers had gotten him? What if he choked on a baguette? What if he finally groped the wrong person and was lying in some alleyway in Paris beaten up? Worst of all, why did England care? He hated France with the fire of a thousand suns. His feelings for France were comparable to the feeling of laying in a bathtub full of vinegar with open wounds while three blue whales were stacked on top of him. All one had to do was drop a battery charger in the bath and there were his feelings for America, but that wasn't the point.

The point was, it was so frustrating to put all of one's effort into hating someone, only to discover the amount of hate one put towards that person wasn't as much as one first thought. Truth be told, although France was a constant, if not perverted, thorn in England's side, England never wanted anything as terrible as death or serious harm upon him.

So, after calling France's house multiple times throughout the course of the day, and only getting the annoyingly cheerful answering machine, England decided to march over and give the annoying bastard a piece of his mind.

Letting out a breath, England made his way through the front gate and lawn, up to the door, which was bordered by two large rose bushes. England wasted no time in banging roughly on it, letting annoyance punctuate every pound as his fist hit the wood. There was still no answer and England began hitting the door all over again.

"France!" he hollered. "France, open the bloody door! I know you're in there!" England stopped knocking to listen for any movement from within. There was none, and he gave a growl before bending down and lifting the welcome mat below his feet. There he found the spare key France always stupidly hid in the same place (no matter how many times England used it to get inside).

Without hesitation, he picked up the key, stuck it in the door and twisted, utterly shocked when he found it was already open. England felt that awful anxiety return. France wasn't the brightest bulb in the shed, but even he locked his doors when there were nation-killers on the loose.

Very cautiously, England twisted the knob and stepped inside the house, his annoyance vanishing, replaced by dread. "France?" he called out into the house. There was no answer. "Francis?" England tried his human name and was met with the same result. Ever so carefully, England stepped into the foyer that led off into France's living room and looked around carefully. The air was pungent with the scent of roses and cologne, making England cough a bit. "Francis? Francis, if you're hiding from me I _will_ find you and kick you in your overly-bloated skull!" England warned. Still no answer.

Perhaps he had made a mistake and France really wasn't home. After all, with so many people to molest and only twenty-four hours in a day, France was obviously busy. England finally made it through the living room and continued into France's huge kitchen. It was there that England stopped in his tracks, breath slamming hard in his throat and eyes going wide with horror.

Near the exquisite dining table, France was lying sprawled on his stomach, head turned to the side. His shoulder-length blond hair covered his face and it was spattered red with blood. The crimson liquid was trickling from a gash on top of France's head, creating a small puddle on the white marble floor. A chair lay overturned on top of him, while his arm was bent at an odd angle.

"Francis!" England cried, rushing over to the fallen nation, throwing the chair to the side, and gently turning him over. England cradled France's head with his forearm, brushing the blood soaked hair out of his face. "Francis! Francis, wake up!" England shook him lightly, and was relieved when the other nation gave a groan and his brows furrowed. Good, they hadn't overthrown his government, and as far as England knew, Paris was still in one piece. "That's right, wake up! Nothing as utterly annoying and perverted as you can die!"

"A-Arthur?" France murmured weakly, his blue eyes cracking open slightly, then closing again abruptly. "The light," he whispered, voice barely recognizable. "Too…too bright…hurts." England let his other hand rest on France's cheek and brought the injured nation's head to his chest as he propped up him in a sitting position. He then used his other arm to wrap around France's shoulders.

"Who did this to you?" England questioned, tucking France's hair behind his ear. France shuddered and wearily opened his eyes again.

"S-Spain," he answered, whimpering softly after a moment. "My head hurts."

"I know, but Spain? Are you sure?" England demanded. "Where is he?"

"He's…" France trailed off as his blue eyes rolled to the ceiling and his face paled horribly. A look of pure horror dawned on his face, and before England could ask what was wrong, France screamed, wrapping his arms around England's neck and burying his face in the other nation's chest. "Oh, God! He's up there! He's up there!" France sobbed hysterically, pressing himself further into England, as if trying to melt away into him.

"What do you mean 'he's up there'?" England interrogated. "Francis, calm down and tell me what you mean!" Without removing his face from England's chest he lifted a shaky hand and pointed to the far right corner. England followed it and felt his own face pale.

He had been too focused on France to see it, but now that he had, he wondered how he could have possibly missed it. Spain was hanging from one of the beams on the ceiling, a thick cord wrapped around his neck as he dangled lifelessly like a pig in a meat processing plant.

"Oh, mother of The Royal Majesty herself," England breathed, eyes wide as dinner plates.

"Arthur, don't leave me!" France cried, fingers gripping the back of England's shirt as if he were dangling over a cliff and England the only thing keeping him from plummeting to his death. England forced himself to tear his gaze away from Spain's hanging body and focus on the panicking France.

"You dolt, you think I'm going to leave you here like this?" France shook violently and England felt something damp on his chest. "Damn crybaby. What the hell happened?"

"I-I came home from Seychelles's house and he was waiting for me on the porch. He started screaming something about Romano and how it was my fault and then he hit me over the head with a chair." England felt his eyes narrow.

"What about Romano was he screaming about?"

"I don't know," France cried, voice slightly muffled. "I was supposed to meet him today, but Seychelles was ill so I went to take care of her instead." France froze suddenly and England felt every muscle in his body stiffen. Very slowly, he finally lifted his head, eyes puffy and red as he stared up at England in terror. "You don't think…You don't think something happened to Romano?" England frowned slightly.

"I don't know, but right now we need to get you to a hospital," England concluded. "Can you walk?" France shook his head, lips quivering as he bowed his head.

"I can't see very well either. Everything is so blurry."

"Alright," England sighed, reaching into his back pocket to withdraw his cell phone. "I'm calling an ambulance. Just rest, okay?" France simply nodded, his eyes taking on the haunted expression England so hated. He gave France's shoulders a comforting squeeze, using his body to shield Spain's dangling corpse from sight.

* * *

"These are worse than last time," Japan observed, dabbing ointment onto his finger and rubbing it into a fresh cut on America's back. He heard America hiss and felt the younger nation's skin shiver from his touch. The two were sitting on America's bed, Japan now dressed in some of the American's old jeans and a hoodie. It wasn't his usual style, as he preferred to look his best no matter what the occasion, but he had to admit the clothes were rather comfortable.

His wet uniform was hanging out the window, while his cell phone lay flipped open on the sill, hopefully drying out from his being dragged against his will into a freezing cold stream. He found it strange he wasn't more angry about it, but somehow getting angry at America was becoming impossible.

"Sorry about your phone," the said guilty nation apologized, biting back a whimper as Japan started bandaging his right upper arm, which was so torn up it looked as if an animal had bitten him.

"It's okay. All it needs to do is dry out and it will be fine, although I can kiss my ring tones and sound goodbye."

"I'm sorry," America said again. Japan merely shook his head, brown eyes intent on his work. He knew it wasn't going to do much good, for the next time he came over he knew new wounds would be waiting.

"I told you, you're forgiven," Japan assured softly, running the tips of his fingers over America's battered sides. It nearly broke his heart when America squirmed uncomfortably. He was trying so hard to act tough and heroic, but Japan prided himself in being able to read others. There was a new underlying terror on America's face, the kind of hopeless terror one found in the eyes of cornered animals. "The bruises have increased in number."

America was currently sitting cross-legged with his back to Japan, shirtless. He was holding an icepack Japan brought over his swollen eye, though he lifted it every so often to blink.

"They aren't that bad," America argued, wincing as Japan continued to rub the ointment into the various cuts. "Watch it, you're hitting a few bruises there." Japan gave a sigh.

"I'm being as gentle as possible, America-kun, but I fear some pain is unavoidable due to the severity of these injuries."

"I guess, but you might want to save some of that ointment." After a moment, he added in a much quieter voice Japan had to strain his ears to hear, "I'm going to be in more trouble." The way America said it made the other nation stop what he was doing. For once, America didn't sound confident and optimistic, but like he was on his way to Death Row. His voice was small and scared, something he only recently started showing to Japan.

"Why is that?" Japan found himself dreading the answer, noticing the way America trembled. It was barely visible, but enough for Japan to know he was scared.

"More of my states went missing," he informed after a moment. Japan frowned, now moving to America's shoulders, which were littered with bruises that vaguely made the shape of a foot. Japan felt his eyes narrow and bit his lip to hold back the rage.

"Which ones?" he choked out, closing his eyes to hide the battered flesh for a moment.

"Washington, Minnesota, Idaho, and both North and South Dakota," America listed them off robotically, fingers tightening in the bed clothes.

"What happened?" Japan wondered, although he caught that they were all northern states yet again. There was a country north of America that was suspicious because of this, but he couldn't remember said nation's name or face. Japan opened his eyes just as America bowed his head, revealing the hand print of bruises around the back of his neck.

"I don't know. They're just vanishing. I'm supposed to protect them, but how can I when I don't know what's going on?" he asked hopelessly. "God, what if they're all…dead?"

"That would be terrible," Japan murmured softly, bowing his head to look at his jean clad knees. He thought of America's states, all little more than children who looked up to their father figure with something only comparable to complete adoration.

"I mean, they call me their dad," America sighed deeply. "What am I supposed to do with that? Pennsylvania is convinced I'm going to find all of them by just snapping my fingers, and my boss…" America trailed off, and Japan practically saw the fear flowing off of the other nation in waves.

The door to America's bedroom opened, and a small grey alien appeared holding a bowl of warm water and a washcloth. Wordlessly, he scurried over to Japan, holding out the bowl with an almost expectant look in his large, glassy black eyes. Although, Japan wasn't entirely sure since it was a creature from another world.

"_Domo-Arigato, _Tony-san,_" _Japan thanked, taking the bowl. He decided to use the more formal expression of gratitude as he didn't know Tony well, and really didn't want to risk offending him. The alien, after all, already had a contract out for England's head.

Tony merely gave a slow blink and turned, scuttling back out of the room on short legs. America's muscles unwound and calmed as Japan took the damp washcloth to the back of his neck. America let out a soothing breath and gave a humorless laugh.

"He likes you."

"Really? I couldn't tell," Japan answered, letting the cloth drift up America's neck and down his shoulders, careful of the newly wrapped upper arm.

"Not as much as he likes England, but it's still there," America said, leaning into the washcloth and the gentle circular motions of Japan's hand.

"Ah," Japan replied quietly, not even bothering to mention the mutterings of "Kill the fucking limey," he had overheard coming from the alien's mouth a few days ago. "Are you actually going to let me see your chest this time?" America stiffened a bit but nodded rigidly. It was clear he didn't want to, but Japan had earned his trust. "Turn around and let me get the front then."

"It's not as bad as in the back," America reported, obediently shifting on the bed so he faced the other nation. Not meeting America's eye Japan focused instead on the American's multicolored chest. It was true that it wasn't as bad as the back, but it was far from normal. It still could have been a collection of every shade of black and blue on an artist's palate, with a few dabs of purple and red for flavor. There was a large gash in particular that made Japan wince. He took the washcloth and gently dabbed the wound, washing it clean.

He tried to focus on his work, but after awhile of simple quiet, he felt his eyes begin to wander over the younger nation's surprisingly well-toned stomach. He let his free hand rest on America's shoulder, where he noticed a rather large scar. It was old, but Japan could tell the wound had been serious when it had been inflicted. He absentmindedly ran the tips of his fingers over the marred flesh. It spanned jagged from the middle of America's collar bone all the way to his left armpit. It was four fingers wide and light, almost like a burn scar.

"Canada did that." Japan jumped at America's sudden explanation, feeling his cheeks burn when he realized America had caught him staring. Then lifted his head in surprise when what America said sank in.

"Canada?" Japan asked in disbelief, then frowned. "I'm sorry, but who is that again?" The name sounded familiar, and he knew he should be surprised that whoever it was inflicted this kind of damage on such a powerful country, but his mind pulled him a blank.

Japan felt an uncomfortable twinge of anxiety when something dark flickered in America's eyes, and he feared he had upset him. However, just as he was about to open his mouth to apologize, America gave a reassuring grin.

"He's my brother."

"Oh!" Japan exclaimed, realization dawning on him. "Your brother, the one that looks like you, right?" America gave a soft laugh.

"We're twins, so of course we'd look alike." Japan was silent for a moment, before he completely remembered who Canada was. Now he recalled bringing up suspicions to Germany and Italy when the first three northern states vanished. America's twin brother, the one most other nations forgot. Still, Japan knew not to bring it up to America and merely smiled back.

"I see," he said, lowering his eyes to continue treating the newer gash across America's chest, but letting them flicker to the scar every so often. "That looks so serious."

"Yeah, it was the war of 1812," America said. "When he burned down the White House." Japan looked up to see the American's expression sadden. "We hurt each other a lot."

"It must have been hard."

"Yeah, it was," America murmured. "I hated fighting him. One, because he's my little brother and that's never fun, but also because, believe it or not, he kicked my ass a good few times." Japan found this hard to believe. He knew America had lost his fair share of battles and also his first and only war against Japan's own sister, but lose to his younger brother?

"That's hard to believe, although I know you're not lying," Japan answered.

"Nope, I'm not. Canada's really strong, and in some ways, I actually look up to him." America flushed, but Japan didn't miss the fond smile on his face. "I mean, he hangs out with that Cuba guy, who I think is a total jerk, but the point is, he can make friends with nations I can't, mostly because he hides his awesome, unlike me. I give him a lot of trouble though because he feels the need to explain my actions to other countries, when he doesn't even understand them completely himself. Still, he puts up with me, and I respect anyone who can do that."

"You really care for him, don't you?" Japan observed, letting the cloth move down America's stomach.

"Yeah, I do. Canada and I are part of the handful of nations who are truly related." Japan looked up again, surprised.

"Really?"

"Mm hm." America nodded. "Canada and I used to consider ourselves one nation, before England took me and France took him."

"You mean with your native people?"

"Yeah, parts of us used to be owned by many different tribes. Some territories stretched through both of us, although many migrated to me when Canada's winters became too severe. We used to have the same name because we were always together."

"What was it?" Japan asked, truly interested. Never before had he heard America talk about his native people, mostly because he got a horribly guilty expression on his face whenever they were brought up.

"It depended on the tribe what they called us, but I forgot all of them," America answered, his tone subdued. "England made sure of that, but I can't lay all the blame on him since Canada and I went a long with it just as well."

"I heard about some of the things, like the Trail of Tears," Japan replied, averting his gaze uncomfortably and taking the ointment in his fingers.

"I still haven't forgiven myself for that one," America murmured. Japan merely focused on rubbing the ointment into the injury on America's chest. It smelled awful and he knew it stung, but it would keep the infection away. "So many died."

"I can't judge," Japan said softly, capping the ointment and lowering his eyes to the washcloth. Flashes of the Bataan Death March from World War II surged through his mind and he felt his fingers tighten on the cloth. He had done so many horrible things to both America's people and the people of the Philippines.

It was basically the same thing, force thousands of people to march ungodly distances nonstop under poor conditions. If it wasn't the same as the Trail of Tears, when America forced thousands of Cherokee Indians to march to a reservation from their home, it was similar enough to where Japan knew the horrible feeling. Still, if America knew what he was referring to, he gave no indication that he did.

World War II was an awkward bump in their friendship that neither one liked to speak of. Japan still had the horrible, angry red burn scar that covered the entire span of his back from the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Better to let bygones be bygones not to forget, never to forget, but to forgive. America had long since forgiven him for Pearl Harbor and it had been one of the happiest days of Japan's long life when he finally earned that forgiveness.

"I called Canada, _Shilah,"_ America said suddenly. Japan was thankful for the change in topic and looked up to show the other nation he was listening. "I can't remember what tribe it was from, but it means 'brother'. He called me, uh, _Wematin, _I think. I'm not sure if it was Navajo or Cherokee. Canada probably remembers, he was a lot more stubborn then I was about forgetting our native people. That was the only thing he gave England trouble over. Well, that and forfeiting his French heritage. Not many nations know this, but Canada can be just as bull-headed as me when he wants to be," America informed proudly. Japan chuckled.

"Why do I find that so hard to believe?"

"You shouldn't. Canada's my twin after all. He's just as strong as me and can really pump out the awesome!" America was positively beaming like a father who recently watched his son win at some sort of sport. The look still didn't fade as he let his fingers brush the old scar, but his voice quieted. "He gave me this after all. A lot of people and nations underestimate him because he's shy, but I know firsthand what happens when you push him too far. I gave him one too when I burned down his Parliament Building, only it's on the opposite shoulder."

"So that's one way to tell you apart," Japan concluded. "Canada's scar is on the right and yours the left."

"Yup," America said. "You know we switched places to confuse England once."

"How did that turn out?"

"It was hilarious. He couldn't tell who was who." America giggled at the memory and Japan found the sound pleasant. "We were really little though so there were no differentiating marks. All we had to do was part our hair differently and you'd never guess who we were. France finally came and told England which was which. He was always able to tell us apart, the only one who could, which ruined a lot of our fun."

"So the fact that you're twins comes from you both being born as one nation but separate entities," Japan concluded. "Sort of like Germany and Prussia and Italy and-" he cut himself off, not wanting to remember Romano's face at the moment. Thankfully, America didn't seem to want to either and simply glossed over it with his reply.

"Yup. We were originally just embodiments of the North and the South of the land and the seasons. Canada was the winter and fall, and I was the spring and summer if that makes any sense."

"So _that's_ why you hate winter," Japan observed.

"I guess you could say that," America said, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "The only reason we have different birthdays is because of our independence from our colonizing countries so to speak. My states were born once The Constitution was signed. Texas is the only one that's represented by my glasses instead of a child."

"I see," Japan stated, dipping the washcloth in the now cooling water in the bowl and dabbing a cut on America's left arm now that the most serious one on his chest was treated. "Although I can't help but still think you're the more 'bull-headed' one."

"Okay, I'll give you that," America piped, smile still on his face. Then, to Japan's shock, his blue eyes grew huge and innocent, while his lips turned into a strangely cute pout. "But Canada's the scarier one, whereas I'm the innocent, fun-loving one who get's his heart broken easily."

It was then Japan got the strangest image in his head of Canada dressed as a stereotypical villain in one of America's old silent black and white films. He was complete with a black cape, top hat and a handlebar mustache that curled inwards. America meanwhile, was in a dress tied to railroad tracks screaming silently for help, in which Japan rode in on a white stallion and…

Okay, he was going to stop this before it went _way _too far.

"There, I'm done for now," Japan concluded, placing the bowl on top of a nearby nightstand piled with papers and various articles of clothing.

"I feel better already," America sighed, stretching a little then grabbing a discarded shirt on the floor and pulling it over his head. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome, America-kun. It's the least I can do."

"No, I mean, thanks…for everything," America looked to the side shyly and fiddled with his glasses above his lap, something Japan had only witnessed Canada do. Apparently they were more alike than what first met the eye. Both fiddled with their glasses when they were nervous, it was just Canada tended to be nervous more often, so the gesture was more commonly preformed by the younger twin. However, it was slightly more endearing when America did it, at least to Japan. "Thank you for being cool and not telling anyone about…this."

"It's not my place," Japan merely answered, keeping his frustration hidden. Getting angry at America would do no good. "You've told me Canada's been badgering you enough about it already, and if you don't listen to him, I don't have a chance of convincing you."

"I just don't want to trouble anyone. With all that's been going on, the last thing anyone needs is to listen to my personal problems," America explained, fingers still toying with the rim of his glasses. Japan knew this wasn't the only reason, but didn't say anything. Calling America out would only make him feel threatened and angry. The last thing Japan wanted was for America to shut him out.

"Also, thank you for your suspicions on Poland," Japan added, standing up from the bed. "Italy-kun, Germany-sama and I will most definitely be paying Lithuania a visit."

"Just be nice to him, okay?" America asked, taking the icepack off his eye and setting it by the bowl on the nightstand. If Japan didn't know any better, he'd say the ice had made the injury worse instead of better. He stood up as well and pulled his bomber jacket on over his shirt. "He let his brothers move in with him, because they've been having a lot of riots due to these killers. Last time I talked to him he sounded really tired, but if I'm right, there's more than one reason he's tired."

"Yes, and your theory does hold merit," Japan said, looking upwards at the taller nation. "Vietnam has been having trouble with riots as well." Japan was startled when another dark look flashed across America's face before vanishing abruptly.

"Tell her I wish her luck," he chirped cheerfully. Japan hadn't missed the look. Vietnam got the same one whenever he mentioned America in her presence. During the war, there had been a lot more than just fighting going on between them, and although Japan couldn't say the same for America, Vietnam still hadn't completely gotten over it. But that look on America's face made something thick sink in Japan's stomach. It made his face hot and he knew it to be jealousy. Upon feeling it, Japan was instantly ashamed and cursed himself within his mind.

"I'll be sure to. She'll enjoy hearing from you," he said, not liking it was half-true and not just some attempt to be polite.

"Hey, Japan?" America asked. Japan looked up from where he was keeping his eyes glued to the abandoned icepack and forced them onto America's face. Upon locking eyes, they froze yet again, unsure of what to say.

"Yes?" Japan managed to whisper out, voice leaving him as he met with those bright blue eyes. America opened his mouth and closed it, but no sound came out. After a moment of merely staring, America lifted his hand and tentatively placed it on Japan's cheek. His fingers were soft and warm on the Asian nation's skin and Japan stiffened abruptly, using every ounce of strength he had left in reserve from Romano's murder to keep his face stoic. Fire jolted from America's touch down to the other country's spine, and eye contact suddenly became the equivalent of lifting a thousand pounds.

Despite this, Japan held his gaze steady, aware only of the soft contact between himself and the other nation. He wasn't sure what to do and was so intent on the moment that when he heard a strange vibrating sound, he jumped slightly. Realizing it was coming from the window, he broke away from America.

"Um, p-please excuse me," he stuttered, bowing briefly and hurrying to retrieve his damaged phone. At least he could still receive calls, although his caller ID was history. He pressed the talk button and held it to his ear, keeping his back to America. "Hello, Japan speaking."

"Kiku, it's Taiwan," his sister's worried voice informed. Over his damaged speakers she sounded slightly robotic, but there was enough expression in her voice for Japan to know she was going to burst into tears at any given moment, and he felt himself grow slightly alarmed.

"What happened?" he asked immediately.

"It's Yao, he's been attacked and Nussia," she paused and took a shuddering breath, "Nussia is dead. St. Petersburg was totally obliterated." Japan felt his eyes widen. The little boy China had been carrying was dead. It was almost as awful as hearing about America's states disappearing. Little more than children was all they were, and not even they were safe. Still, he had to keep it together.

"How is he?"

"He was stabbed, but they patched it up and he's awake," Taiwan reported, although she didn't sound happy in the least, meaning there was something else going on Japan had yet to learn. "But Kiku, he's not saying anything. He won't talk and he's staring off into space. Korea isn't even getting a reaction. I'm worried." Japan sighed.

"You mean he hasn't said one word?"

"Not one. He's just…not there. It's like he's in a coma." Japan felt the irony in the statement, did not find it amusing in the least, and frowned.

"So, I'm assuming Beijing is destroyed?"

"Actually, no," Taiwan stated, sounding a little surprised herself. "Beijing is fine."

"Really?" Japan said flatly, feeling suspicion rise. His eyes narrowed as he stared out the window and out over the tops to the surrounding forest. Why was it that whenever China was around, he was only mildly injured in comparison to the nation he was with, who was either nearly killed or killed? It was too good to be true to believe that China was simply lucky and had not been the true target, or that he merely had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No, there was more to this. Even though he, Germany, and Italy had questioned neighbors who claimed to have seen China out walking that day during the time Russia was supposedly attacked, it still didn't mean China was completely innocent.

"Kiku, are you there?" Taiwan questioned, her voice rising slightly.

"Yes, I apologize Taiwan, but I have to go. I'll be right there," he assured before hanging up and turning to America, who was looking at him curiously.

"Who was that?"

"Taiwan. Nussia is dead." For the second time that day, America's face conveyed shock then sadness.

"Seriously? Wow, poor little guy," he sighed. "China must be devastated. I was there when he broke off from Russia." Then he added as an afterthought, "That's two nations in one day, they're starting to pick up the pace."

"Yes, but for now that has to wait. Apparently China was stabbed and now he's in a sort of emotional coma," Japan stated. "I better get over there. I'll return your clothes as soon as possible." Japan gave a bow and started to leave the room when he became aware of America following closely behind.

"I'll see you out!" he declared cheerfully. "What kind of host would I be if I just let you run out of here all by yourself without at least saying goodbye?" Japan found himself smiling yet again as America took the lead and showed Japan down the hallway.

"You're very kind."

"Nah, blame England for filling my head with all this manners crap when I was a kid."

"Why would I blame him for creating quite the gentleman?" Japan found himself teasing. It was strange. He never teased anyone before in his life, especially not playfully.

"Pfft, I'm no gentleman," America proclaimed. "I just like you and want to stay with you for as long as possible." Japan felt his blood ram to a sudden stop in his veins, but didn't break pace with America. It probably wasn't as it sounded. America was just being a good friend that was all.

"Well, here we are," America said as they finally made it down the twisting staircase to the front door. Japan watched a few maids scuttle by and looked up at America again, but just as he was about to open his mouth to say another thank you, another voice called from one of the rooms.

"Alfred, you didn't tell me we had a guest!" The man appeared from a huge office that connected to the living room. He was tall, with graying sandy brown hair and thick arms. Japan could see he was well built, even in his expensive suit, while a tiny American flag was pinned to his left breast pocket.

However, what caught Japan's eye was not the man, but the look of absolute fear on America's face as the man approached and put a hand on the nation's shoulder. It was too high up for Japan's comfort, squeezing where America's neck joined with his collarbone. He felt anger burn in the pit of his stomach as he watched America flinch when the man put pressure on the bruises there.

"Hello, I am Japan. You must be America-kun's boss," Japan said, bowing lowly out of necessary respect, although keeping his eyes cold.

"President Henry Reynolds," the man introduced, holding out his hand. Japan took it and wasn't surprised when the man's grip proved almost bone-crushing. America directed his gaze at his feet, entire body stiff as if awaiting punishment. It made Japan nauseous. He already didn't like this man. Not one bit. Japan _hated _this man before he even met him. "So what brings you across the pond, Mr. Japan?"

_Trying to fix what you do to your nation, you sick bastard, _he thought. Suddenly, he knew he had to get America away from this man, even if it was only for a few days. President Reynolds was a certified corrupted leader if ever Japan saw one. Maybe not because he stole taxpayer's money or took bribes, but because of what he did to make his nation follow his every command like some trained circus animal. "I wish for America-kun to accompany me to Asia," Japan explained, succeeding beautifully in keeping his voice even. "China was recently attacked and already The Republic of New Russia has collapsed." America looked up in surprise, but the fear didn't ebb away.

"I see, and were you going to tell me about this, Alfred?" President Reynolds questioned. Japan noticed with growing fury that the man's hand tightened on America's shoulder and America grit his teeth to keep from yelping. Bosses were supposed to love their nations, to protect them, but this man was a tyrant.

"Yes sir," America answered. It was automatic, as if programmed into his brain. There was so much fear in America it made Japan want to scream, but there was nothing he could do, not right now.

President Reynolds turned to Japan and let his cold green eyes take in the nation's outfit.

"Dear me, you're not dressed for a meeting." Japan got the sudden urge to spit in his face, but restrained himself.

"Yes, America-kun wished to show me something in your forest, but I slipped and fell into a stream, so America-kun is letting me borrow his clothes."

"Oh, so you brought such an important visitor into the woods alone?" President Reynolds lowered his hand a gripped America's wrist. It was torture to sit here and watch and that horrible fear on America's face was almost too much to bear.

"I apologize." Japan let his hands curl into slightly trembling fists upon hearing something so formal come out of America's mouth.

"I really must be going, so if you don't mind, will America-kun be accompanying me or not?" The President gave him an unreadable look, but his face grew into a Cheshire cat smile, the kind of mysterious smile one wasn't sure whether to be afraid of or find funny.

"Of course," he said, placing his other hand on the small of America's back and pushing him forward like a mother horse trying to teach her colt to walk. "We'll just have a talk about how to treat guests when you return, Alfred." With that, the President turned and made his way back into his office.

Japan unconsciously took America's hand and led him out the door, throwing one last icy look at the retreating man's back.

* * *

Did you guys find all the subtle hints? I guess we all know who's beating up America, right? Again, this will open the answer to our first killer and you guys will be blown away! I tried writing USxUK...yeah I'm not even going to finish that. Its up and yeah...bad Angel is bad!


	15. Ruhrkannibale

Okay guys, this chapter is probably not going to be as interesting as the others because it's stuffed full of plot, but I promise the next one will have you reeling as Iceland and Denmark make another appearance, only they...yeah, no spoilers! But still, this chapter's important! Swear to God!

Shout outs:

**Nobodies Have Hearts, spocketlaine** (Bataan Death March just seems like something Japan would feel guilty for),** KibalurvesHinata, Compleatly Random Dissorder, Angry Panda Dance** (love your name, and glad you've delurked for us :D),** Sweet Little Pirana, LightBender, I Brake For Bishounen Boys, randomlvr1**(Again, have my babies. I swear to God, you gave me a joygasim**!), xYukii, Kara2992, marmoki, xblkdragonx, Thorro, greenpanic6, devsHaruhi-x, hurleysuki, dragoneian, koholint, SheWhoRunsWithScissors, Hiroshi-kun31, AnimeDutchess, Plumville Amy, mangarox14, Kosa** (No prob! We understood you perfectly! Where you from anyway?)** Koneko Otome, Cry-Wolf-And-Sing, , Tobi- That's What They Call Me, Lochesh, VIITheChariot** (Your move again, woman! And no love making? D:) **ninjafox369** (Your pic rocked!) **EmoLollipop, Snowflake-Ever-Falling, luvjOi, HandInTheCookieJar**, and **Miss Chelle**

**Disclaimer: **We don't own shit!

* * *

"You didn't have to do that," America said once they boarded a taxi after leaving the airport on the final leg of their journey to the hospital. It came as a surprise, as they both remained relatively silent throughout the duration, speaking only to the stewardesses when asked if they'd like peanuts. Japan had politely declined, whereas America took ten bags, ate them in a matter of seconds, then promptly fell asleep on Japan's shoulder. It had been…embarrassing, but Japan found he didn't have the heart to wake America up, especially when he looked so peaceful and there was no underlying fear or worry marring his features.

Now Japan watched him as he slammed the door, searching for any form of malice, and was relieved when he found only curiosity and, dare he think, a little admiration.

"Yes I did," Japan answered with no hesitation. "That man is sick." America turned away from him to stare out the window, tugging the collar of his jacket higher up over his neck as the buildings whizzed by like bullets.

"It's really not that bad," America said softly. "I need the discipline. I don't even mind anymore." Japan released a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding.

"Please don't say that," he replied, looking down at his hands. They hadn't stopped trembling since they exited the plane, and the thought of Reynolds putting his hands on America, his own nation, the one thing he was supposed to love and protect made him feel a kind of fury he hadn't been aware he possessed. "You don't need anything of the sort. He's wrong America. No one should put their hands on anyone else."

"My people really like him," America continued, as if trying his hardest to justify it. "He's really pulled the economy out of the dumps and he's reformed our health care and reduced dependence on foreign oil and-"

"But he hits you!" Japan snapped. He let his gaze flicker to the taxi driver, relieved when he didn't seem to hear. Either that, or he couldn't speak English or just didn't care. Whichever worked. "He beats you and it's wrong. Bosses care for their nations. Look what happened to Germany and Russia. Their bosses seemed to be doing great things for them, but they're the perfect examples of what happens to a nation abused by their boss!"

"But none of my people are getting hurt!" America argued defensively. "He's not discriminating against anyone, or forcing innocents into labor camps. He's not hurting anyone."

"He's hurting you," Japan pointed out quietly.

"But I can take it."

"You shouldn't have to," Japan whispered, diverting his gaze to the back of the driver's bald head. Out of the corner of his eye, America's expression turned guarded and Japan let out a sigh. "Listen, I'm not trying to tell you what to do. All I'm doing is calling it as I see it." The taxi jerked slightly through the oncoming traffic and Japan was thrown into America's side. A flush crept up the back of his neck as he met America's eye and he shifted away back to his spot on the opposite seat. "How long has it been going on, anyway?"

"About a year," America answered so quietly, Japan barely caught it. "I'm sorry," he said softly, jerking forward slightly as the cab driver slammed on his breaks. Japan studied America's profile as the younger nation looked down, blond hair shielding his eyes from view.

"It's not supposed to be like that, America," Japan murmured. He got the sudden urge to brush America's hair out of his face, lifted his hand, hesitated, and lowered it again. He instead looked out his own window, watching as the people walked along the sidewalks and other cars zipped past. "No matter what he says, it's not supposed to be like that."

"I know, but what can I do?"

Japan didn't have an answer for that, and felt his face fall. Nations had to obey their bosses. Even if a hand was lifted against them, the nation always had to listen. America turned his head slightly, noticed Japan's solemn expression, then grinned before sitting up straight and turning in his seat.

"Still, this isn't about me. China's hurt and I'm here to offer you moral support because I'm a hero and we're friends and that's what heroes and friends do!" He exclaimed, flashing a thumbs up. Japan looked over at him and tried to smile, but Reynolds's work made it impossible.

America's right eye was still blackened and although the bruise he originally thought was from Switzerland's binoculars had faded, it was still present. Japan merely stared at him, his lips remaining a downward curve. "I think we need to turn that frown upside down!" America exclaimed again, suddenly reaching forward and sticking his fingers in the corners of Japan's mouth and pulling it into a smile.

"A-America-kun!" Japan gasped around the other nation's fingers, trying his hardest to keep his tongue from brushing the intruding digits.

"Aw what? We're back to honorifics?" America questioned, although he was still smiling broadly.

"What do you mean 'back to'?" Japan asked, horrified at his slurred speech while at the same time searching his mind for an instance where he forgot to tag 'kun' on the end of America's name. They should have called him Japan, Land of the Multitaskers!

"Just now, when you were needlessly worrying about my boss, you only called me America," America said, getting that same innocent look he wore while Japan was treating his wounds. "Or did you not mean it?" Japan was horribly uncomfortable, with his mouth forced into a smile and all the blood in his body suddenly congregating in his cheeks.

"I-I'm sorry if I o-offended you in any way by-" he was cut off by America's laughter, and was relieved when the fingers were removed from his mouth and the artificial smile gone. "You're too cute, Japan!" America said, wiping a tear from his eye. At this, Japan's face became one of pure shock and redness.

"C-Cute?" he stuttered quietly. America merely titled his head slightly, his lips pulling into the usual half-smile.

"Sure, or in your language, it's _kawaii, _am I right?" Japan felt his cheeks flush even more, if that were even possible.

"How do you know all this?" Japan asked, lowering his face in shame. "How do you know about the honorifics and the…the…cute?"

"Well, a lot of my folks like that anime stuff," America explained. "I happen to too." Japan felt his embarrassment rise, but was also quite flattered. He knew a lot of America's people enjoyed his animations, but never knew America himself watched them. "My favorite one is the one with the five girls and the guy that live in a small town that's cursed. Then someone always dies after a festival and there's a lot of murder and gore and that one chick with a cleaver who reminds me of Russia."

"Um, are you talking about, _Higurashi no naku koro ni_?"

"Yeah, _Higurashi no bla bla bla_," America confirmed happily. "I love it, carnage candy, baby! Funny something that sick comes from you."

"Oh," was all Japan said, as he turned away again. The cab was suddenly becoming too hot. He felt America's eyes on him, as if the other nation expected him to say more. What else was there to say? "You know, the English title is _When the Cicadas Cry._" Smooth, America probably already knew that.

"Really?" Okay, apparently not. "I also like _Hellsing, _even though it gives me nightmares. Yuck! Vampires are _way_ _scary! _Oh_, _and _Elfen Lied _too_. _I watched that one with Canada and I thought he was going to throw up!" Japan was keeping his eyes trained out the window. He never thought he'd be discussing _anime_ of all things with America. Although, he couldn't quite say he didn't enjoy the fact the younger nation was interested in even a small part of his culture. So far, America's tastes ranged in the gore section, the section Japan himself enjoyed only when he was in the mood.

"Um," he began rather stupidly, turning around but still not looking America directly in the eye. "Have you seen _Chobits?" _At that moment, Japan wanted the taxi to crash. _Chobits? Really? _Out of all the romance animes he'd seen he had to bring up _Chobits? _America was obviously into the hardcore hero/action anime. Not the-

"Oh, I love that one, such a wonderful story," America sighed. "I feel for the guy in that one. I mean, what are you supposed to do when you find a cute girl naked in the trash?" Japan risked a glance up at America and felt his chest explode with threads of anxiety.

"I only thought you would like the action ones," Japan murmured.

"Pfft, please," America gloated. "I'm a little bit of everything kind of guy! The only one I didn't like was _Hamtaro. _It took me about a week for my testosterone to recover after that one! I mean hamsters talking about the power of friendship and love? I get it was for little kids, but even Sealand was making fun of it with me." He laughed again and Japan looked up completely in time to see the hospital come into view. America noticed also and released a breath. "Well, looks like we're here."

"Yes, thank you for accompanying me, America-kun," Japan said, paying the driver before getting out. America followed, and draped an arm over the smaller nation's shoulders.

"No prob! It's what friends are for!"

"Yeah…friends," Japan muttered softly, directing his gaze at the concrete of the hospital parking lot. He felt the weight of America's arm lift and let all the stale air out of his lungs.

"Come on Japan!" America cried already headed towards the automatic doors.

"_H-Hai," _he stuttered, following the other country inside. He flexed his tongue irritably. Why was he always stuttering like a complete idiot nowadays? It made his tone hard when he asked the nurse for Wang Yao's room, in which the elderly woman gave a sniff and directed them accordingly, although not a very friendly way.

"Wow, Japan, you should be a little nicer to the old ladies," America said as they hurried towards the elevators.

"I apologize, I'm just a bit flustered that's all," Japan replied.

"I guess having a family member attacked twice can do that to you." Japan didn't bother to explain the true reason as he pressed the button to the elevator they just boarded. He gave a quiet sigh and looked up at the ceiling, noticing it was a giant mirror. His own tired brown eyes stared back at him, framed by short black hair that fell across his forehead and a little down his cheeks. America looked up as well, and Japan met his eyes in the mirror. It wasn't as bad as direct contact.

"Are you worried for China?" America asked, neck still craned back.

"A little, but to tell you the truth he seems a bit suspicious."

"Ah," America said with a knowing tone in his voice. "I see."

"See what?" Japan demanded. Somehow having such a knowing expression on America's usually clueless face was unsettling.

"You don't seem to like China very much." Japan sighed at this.

"It's not that I don't like China. In fact, I care for China very much, it's just that…our relationship is…strained for various reasons."

"I see," America repeated. Japan frowned at the assessment and ran his hands down America's borrowed hoodie nervously.

"See what?" Japan asked yet again. America was silent for a moment before a nostalgic smile graced his features.

"Well, lend me an ear for this, but did you know Russia and I used to be best friends?" Japan was genuinely surprised by this and saw his eyes widen in the mirrored ceiling. Lowering his head he instead looked at America directly, mouth slightly agape. Japan knew little about America and Russia's relationship other than they were quote, "arch rivals turned drinking buddies," end quote, but best friends? During the Cold War, everyone expected them to kill each other and take the rest of the world with them. How had they progressed from best friends to that?

America noticed his unbelieving expression and gave a quiet chuckle. "Yeah, not a lot of nations know that. They automatically jump to the Cold War and think that's the only time we ever interacted."

"That's so strange," was all Japan could say.

"Russia was always there for me, especially during the Civil War when everyone else thought I was going to die. My states were tearing each other apart and I was endanger of being split into two new countries. No one believed in me. Not even England. Not even Canada." There was a flash of pain in America's eyes as he said the last two names. "Russia was the only one who did. He helped me through it by just being there and being my friend. He was probably the best friend I ever had or ever will have. He was," America gave a sad laugh, "he was my hero."

"Then how did you…?" Japan trailed off, unsure of how to phrase it.

"Come to want to fucking kill each other?" America supplied. "It started with the Bolshevik Revolution when the tsars were overthrown by the communists. It was different, but we were still friends, we still talked. There were arguments though, but friends argue sometimes. We still hung out, bitched about England, you know, all the good stuff. Then Stalin took over after Lenin and it was a whole other ball game."

"Stalin, I remember him," Japan said. "The 'Man of Steel' if I remember correctly."

"Yeah, he beat the shit out of Russia and brainwashed him into saying really hurtful things to me. It wasn't fun. Just imagine, your best friend for hundreds of years takes every secret and insecurity you've told him about yourself, and he throws it back in your face. Of course, I did the same thing, and _bingo, _we hated each other."

"That's awful," Japan said.

"I didn't know about Stalin kicking the crap out of him until after the Soviet Union collapsed, then _I _felt like shit for not being able to see he was in pain. Still, even throughout the duration of the Cold War, we both genuinely hated one another and even a little afterward we avoided each other. But let me tell you something, Russia knew about my boss. He knew before anyone else."

"Who else knows?" Japan asked.

"Just you and Canada. Canada walked in on it and I was kind of forced to tell you." Japan frowned and America chuckled softly. "Russia just figured it out. He knows me almost as much as Canada, maybe even a little more."

"I assume you told him not to tell anyone," Japan figured.

"You assume correctly, but it wasn't easy. He lost his shit when he saw the hand print around my neck." America gave another sad, nostalgic smile. "He was cursing and yelling things in Russian probably non-repeatable in English, but after I got him to calm down and promise not to tell, he was angry still, but he started crying."

"Seriously?" Japan inquired, his tone slightly doubtful. The Russo-Japanese war came to mind, when it seemed as if nothing could wipe the annoying sunny smile off Russia's face. "Russia doesn't seem the type."

"Ah, Russia's not the cheerful sadistic stone wall everyone thinks he is," America laughed. "Believe it or not, he's got a heart under all that crazy. I mean, he fell in love with China. But yeah, he cried against my chest all the while calling me names and punching my shoulder to try and keep himself worked up."

"Stalin was very abusive towards him," Japan concluded. "If you say you were best friends at one point, seeing you go through the same thing might have definitely upset him."

"That's the point I'm trying to make," America said.

"The point?"

"You don't think I started explaining my past relationship with Russia at random do you? Since when am I known for talking uselessly on a tangent?"

"Uh…"

"Never mind, don't answer that," America ordered. "Anyway, what I want to get at is that I always thought there were two Russia's. _My _Russia, and then plain old commie Russia. I always thought my Russia was killed along with the Romanovs. It was how I made it through the Cold War without going completely insane, by saying that my Russia and plain old commie Russia were two different nations instead of the same person. It also made it a lot easier to hate plain old commie Russia when I thought of him killing my Russia, but when he found out about what my boss was doing and he reacted that way, it made me see that my Russia never really died, that he was always there."

"So what are you trying to tell me?"

"Well, the thing is, Russia and I aren't as close as we once were, and probably never will be again. We said a lot of really hurtful and hateful things neither one of us can take back, but the point is, we give each other the benefit of the doubt. What I'm trying to say is that, even though you and China aren't as close as you once were, and there's a lot of ugly stuff between you, give him the benefit of the doubt at least for now because he still cares about you. And I know when it comes down to it, like Russia and me, you still care about him, no matter how you act or how cold you try to seem." This time, it was Japan's turn to utter,

"I see."

"Well, good, because we're here," America announced, stepping off the elevator as the bell chimed and the doors slid open. Japan hurried after him and down the hall, where he saw Taiwan, Korea and Hong Kong waiting for him. Yet, before he went to greet them, he turned towards America and gave another one of his rare grateful smiles.

"Thank you, for sharing that with me."

"Again, no biggie, that's what friends are for. Advice giving!" America gave a wink. "Just remember the point of it, okay? China needs to know you care for him, and so do your brothers and sisters."

"Of course," Japan assured, placing a hand on America's arm before he could stop himself. He braced himself for humiliation and began spitting curses in his mind, but felt all mental functions cease as America returned his smile, covered his hand with his own larger one and gave a warm, comforting squeeze.

"Go on," America pressed, releasing it after only a moment. "I'll be right behind you." Japan merely gave a stiff nod before finishing the remainder of the walk and greeting his siblings. _America had touched his hand_.

"Oh, Kiku it's terrible!" Taiwan cried as she rushed to him. She gave him a quick hug then pulled away, her eyes brimming with tears. "Yao won't talk to anyone. I'm scared."

"I'll see if I can talk to him," Japan assured, giving Taiwan's shoulder a tight squeeze.

"I don't know if you can," Hong Kong sighed as he and Korea made their way from the doorway of China's room.

"Hey America, what are you doing here?" Korea asked, wide smile on his face despite the situation. Japan noticed his brother's gaze shift from America to Japan's clothes, and to his horror and complete humiliation, watched as Korea's wide smile turned into an evil grin, complete with the purple aura Japan often envisioned around Russia.

"I came to give Japan moral support!" America declared, suggestive subtext going right over his head.

"That's so great," Korea said, winking at Japan who smacked his palm to his face.

_Why? Why? Why? Why is it now Korea has to go back to being stupid! _Japan wailed within his mind.

"Well, Yao is waiting," Hong Kong spoke up, obviously annoyed with Korea's innuendos. Taiwan merely blinked at her brother before turning back to Japan.

"Please try and get him to at least eat," she begged softly, toying with a strand of black hair.

"I'll do my best," Japan said, glancing over his shoulder in time to see America and Korea both give him encouraging nods. Taiwan was furiously wiping her eyes, while Hong Kong patted her shoulder and stared up at the ceiling in apparent exasperation.

Without another word, he turned and walked through the open door. He wasn't sure what he expected to see, but as soon as he entered the room, the air suddenly seemed too thick to take into his lungs. It wasn't that anything was out of place, or that China was twitching on the ground foaming at the mouth, it was just something was _not _right.

Upon first entering, Japan wasn't able to see China's face, for he had his head turned to look out the large window next to his hospital bed. His long black hair was down and hung around his shoulders in loose strands. An untouched tray of food was positioned in front of him, long since gone cold.

"China-san," Japan began, walking over to the other nation's bedside. There was no response. It was as if China had not heard him. He decided to drop the honorific. "China, Taiwan is very worried for you." He didn't even turn around as Japan pulled up a chair and sat down, knotting his fingers together nervously. He remembered the conversation with America on the elevator and added in a hushed voice, "And so am I."

China turned then, and although at first Japan thought it was because of what he just said, he was mistaken. China didn't seem to register his younger brother was even sitting next to him. His brown eyes were like mirrors, almost black as he stared right through Japan and at the opposite wall.

"Yao, you really should say something," Japan prompted. He was slightly unnerved by how blank his older brother's eyes appeared. A few strands of hair fell in China's face, but he made no move to sweep them back. Japan gave an uncomfortable sigh and looked away, before standing up and leaning in closer to China. "Can you even hear me?" he wondered aloud, voice laced with anxiety.

China just stared back at him, unblinking and mouth slack. Japan let out another breath and gripped the other nation's shoulders. "Yao, listen, I need your help with this. I _will_ catch the nation who killed Nussia, but I need you to tell me what happened," Japan stated.

China didn't respond.

"You received death threats at your own home, did they continue after you moved in with Hong Kong and Taiwan?"

China didn't respond.

"Was there anything that led you to believe you were going to be attacked?"

China didn't respond, and Japan felt his frustration rise.

"Why is Beijing unharmed if the killers were after you?"

China merely stared at him, unseeing.

"Your alliance with Russia gives you temporary control of his people if his government falls to anarchy and vice a verse, doesn't it?"

China remained silent.

"Nussia broke off from Russia because of this, right?"

China didn't respond. Japan felt his eyes narrow and the frustration mount. He was literally talking to a corpse.

"As of now, you control the largest span of land out of any nation and have doubled your population, am I right, Yao?"

China didn't respond. Japan's hands tightened on China's shoulders, almost painfully so, but it brought forth no reaction from the other country.

"Nussia was independent from you, wasn't he, _China?_" Japan hissed. There was something wrong here. China was like a doll, but beyond the apparent darkness of his eyes, Japan thought for sure he saw something. It wasn't necessarily an emotion, but something twisted. "Nussia was independent, but you still sent aid to St. Petersburg. He lived with you for a little under a week before he was killed. With Nussia gone, all of Russia is yours, right?"

China still didn't answer.

"Are you not talking because you know something?" Japan leaned in closer to China's face and saw that his eyes were empty as black holes, but imagined a flicker. It was something ugly that peeked its head in for a few moments before running out again.

"Nussia was still a part of Russia. Killing Nussia seriously hurt Russia and possibly set his coma back," Japan declared, not knowing if it was really true, but desperate for his older brother to speak. He gave China a quick shake, and watched as a stream of black hair fell over his shoulders. "With Russia still in a coma, you still control his people! Did you kill Nussia, knowing this, China?" He jerked his older brother again, getting the same empty-faced result. "Is that why you're not talking, Yao?" Japan demanded, his frustration finally boiling over.

China was still staring at him blankly, not even making an effort to talk. Nations were dying and every ounce of information was needed to put a stop to it, but China didn't seem to be making an effort to help. It had taken Japan interrogating him to finally have him admit to the blood on the walls. He remembered Romano's body and Italy's pain. They needed to stop this, but they needed every bit of information they could get to make that happen.

"Yao, please, I'm begging you, please tell me what happened when Nussia was killed," Japan said desperately. "Romano was murdered as well. We need to find out who's doing this and any information you can provide will help greatly."

China blinked slowly, but still didn't answer. Japan bit his lower lip as a feeling of uselessness came over him. Of course Italy had decided out of the blue to find out who killed Switzerland, but now the three of them had gotten in way over their heads and it was too late to turn back. China wasn't responding to any of his questions, only staring at him with those blank, impassive eyes.

Japan lifted his right hand from China's shoulder and raised it to the side, ready to bring it back and slap his older brother across the face. There was so much going on, from murders, to attacks, and worst of all, knowing someone he cared deeply for was being hurt and there was nothing he could do about it.

"_What I'm trying to say is that, even though you and China aren't as close as you once were, and there's a lot of ugly stuff between you, give him the benefit of the doubt at least for now because he still cares about you." _Japan lowered his hand and let out a shuddering breath before stepping away from China's bedside.

"_No one should put their hands on anyone else."_

He needed to follow his own advice. Just because he was frustrated and even a little scared, it didn't give him the right to hit his elder. Guilt and shame overcame him as he dropped to his knees and took China's limp hands within his own.

"I'm so sorry, Yao," Japan apologized, letting his forehead touch the mattress. "I shouldn't have raised a hand against you, or accused you of anything." After a moment of heavy silence, Japan lifted his head to see China had turned back to the window, his face once again hidden by the long tresses of black hair.

Japan suddenly wanted to cry.

"You know, America's boss is hitting him," he found himself saying, still holding China's hands. He felt as if he were small again, small, weak and useless. China used to hold him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. Japan used to tell him everything, and though he rarely cried even when he was little, he still got upset, and China was always there to listen and give him advice.

Problem was, China wasn't here to listen anymore. Now as Japan clutched his strangely cold hands within his own, he realized that after 4000 years, China was finally broken.

"I promised him I wouldn't reveal it to anyone, but I don't know what to do," Japan whispered hopelessly despite it. He remembered seeing the whiplashes across America's chest and back, all the bruises and cuts, and it was as if he were sitting on China's lap in the bamboo gardens again. Japan found his feelings for America increasing the more time they spent together and closed his eyes against the annoying burning sensation within them.

It was so hard to put into coherent thought. For the longest time, Japan had viewed America as a sort of child. He was afraid ghosts, and had the boundless energy of a Chihuahua on crack. Japan recalled several times when America had invited him over to watch scary movies, which ended up with the younger nation clinging to him screaming in terror. Imagining America being hurt in anyway made him sick.

"I can't stay quiet about this, Yao," Japan murmured, letting his cheek rest against China's hand. China didn't turn away from the window, but didn't pull his hand away. "I can't just let America be hurt like this. I got him away from his boss for now, but when he goes back, I fear I did nothing but postpone the storm and possibly make it worse."

China didn't respond, didn't even turn around. Japan suddenly felt like the last nation left in the world. "Please say something. Please tell me what to do, _Onii-chan_," he begged into the starchy cleanliness of China's sheets.

Silence.

Ever so slowly, Japan got to his feet, released China's hand, and stepped away from his non responsive older brother. Standing by the doorway now, everything was back to the way it was. The food on China's tray remained untouched, China himself was once again staring unseeingly out the window, and America was still going to be beaten when he returned to his house. He changed nothing. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Japan left the room.

"Did you get him to say anything?" Taiwan questioned hopefully when she spotted Japan exiting.

"No, and I couldn't get him to eat anything, either," he murmured to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Aw, no need to apologize, Japan!" Korea chirped, wrapping his arms around Japan's shoulders with that same huge smile on his face. "Aniki is just tired, that's all. He only woke up yesterday! I'm sure once all the drugs are out of his system he'll be as hungry as a hippo and have all sorts of things to say!"

"Ever the annoying optimist," Hong Kong sighed.

"Korea invented optimism!" Korea declared. "You'll see! Aniki is strong! He just needs rest! He'll be good as new!"

"Wait," Japan interrupted, rubbing his temples to try and scare off a threatening headache. "He was admitted yesterday?"

"Oh, Kiku, we didn't want to call you until he woke up," Taiwan said. "You've been so busy lately, that we didn't want to trouble you."

"It was a minor injury," Hong Kong added. "If he were human, we'd definitely would have called you, but for something so minor, we figured it was okay to hold off until he was conscious."

"I guess," Japan muttered, too tired to argue. He looked up to see three faces, noticing the one he most wanted to see was absent. "Where did America-kun run off too?"

"Oh, you mean your _midnight lover!"_ Korea sang shrilly.

"No, I mean America-kun," Japan growled.

"You're wearing his clothes," Korea pointed out, strutting around Japan and pinching folds of fabric here and there. "Please, Korea invented private investigators, and as any well-trained PI knows, when someone is wearing someone else's clothes it definitely means you did it."

"Did what?" Japan demanded.

"You know, park the car in the garage."

"What?"

"Bump uglies?"

"Excuse me?"

"Put your wand in his Chamber of Secrets?"

"Is that a _Harry Potter _reference to something? I didn't know you could read."

"Of course, Korea invented reading, and sticking the lime in the coconut!"

"Sticking the what in the what now?"

"Butter each other's loaves?"

"What does food-"

"Korea is insinuating that you had sex with him," Hong Kong butted in abruptly and with little to no tact. Taiwan gave a squawk and gasp and Japan felt his face redden all over again.

"W-What? What gave you that impression! I fell in a river and he let me borrow some clothes! We never…" Japan trailed off, making various (and rather vulgar) hand symbols. "Stuck the lime in the coconut or bumped anything!"

"Y-You know Kiku, it's okay if you have," Taiwan inputted nervously, also blushing madly. "As long as you love each other. I mean, he's a bit loud, but I think he'd make a good addition to the family." Japan couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Yeah, America's alright!" Korea chimed in. "If he makes you happy, we're happy for you!"

"Well, that's very nice but-" Japan began flustered, only to be cut off by Korea again.

"I call best man for the wedding!"

"Oh, well, then can I be the flower girl?" Taiwan asked. "Seychelles and I grow such beautiful flowers. Oh, Kiku it'd be wonderful!"

"But, I'm not getting-"

"I'll be the ring bearer," Hong Kong offered, obviously enjoying this little game. "Or if America's fine with a traditional wedding from our part of the world, I can make the outfits."

"There's not going to-" Japan tried again only to be cut off by Taiwan, who was over her initial nervousness and now seemed thrilled with the concept of a wedding.

"Oh, but you have to have it during the Cherry Blossom Festival!" she declared, a scarily dreamy look on her face. Japan gawked nervously as a hazy background of pink appeared behind her along with the sound of tinkling wind chimes. "It'd be so romantic, with the pink petals dancing in the wind and you declaring your honest love for one another. And then you share a passionate kiss in the warm sunshine as your vows are complete, while Utada Hikaru sings _Sakura Drops_ in the background!"

"Look, I'm not marrying America-kun," Japan said, watching as Taiwan continued to babble while twirling around dreamily, lost in her own fantasies.

"Oh, still got something left for Greece do you?" Korea asked. "Which is funny, because I specifically remember you saying you've never particularly liked anyone before." Japan felt his face heat up even more. Why did family have to be so embarrassing?

"Greece-san and I are friends, that's all."

"Really?" Korea gave another evil grin. "Because Aniki says he heard you two bumping uglies all the way from his house!"

"Enough with the innuendo talk!" Japan snapped. "Just say 'slept with' like a normal person."

"Well, isn't it true?" Hong Kong questioned, crossing his arms and raising a thick eyebrow. "You and Greece had a thing for awhile didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but that was a long time ago," Japan answered, redirecting his gaze to the white floor. "We've since ended it."

"Oh, and is your new lover aware of this?" Korea asked smugly.

"America is not my lover!" Japan yelled, losing what little patience he had left and wanting nothing more than to get away from the animals he called his family. Korea gasped.

"Oooh, Hong Kong, did you hear that?" he questioned in a mock shocked voice.

"Yes, I do believe I did," Hong Kong replied, a rare smile stretching across his face. Why was it that Hong Kong only smiled when there was human suffering around? Taiwan, in the meantime, was still caught up in her fantasies of weddings and talking happily to the wall behind them.

"H-Heard what?" Japan asked fearfully, feeling as if his two brothers suddenly towered over him.

"You didn't add the 'kun'," Hong Kong answered. Japan felt as if he were about to faint with the utter embarrassment.

"I-It was a mistake!" he cried.

"Oooh, you like him!" Korea sang. "You want to love him, you want to kiss him, you want to date him, you want to marry him!"

"S-Stop it!" Japan commanded.

"What? It's perfectly natural," Hong Kong stated matter-of-factly, nodding to himself. "He'd make a good husband for you I think. You have my approval."

"Approval for what?" Japan demanded.

"And mine!" Korea chirped.

"Why do I need your approval?"

"Oh and of course you have mine, Kiku!" Taiwan added finally coming out of fantasy land.

"Oh, but if we do a traditional wedding, we need to make arrangements for the _Yui-no!" _Korea declared. "That way his family can give you the obi to your _shiromuku!" _

"Wait, why do I have to be the woman?"

"I'll bring the sake," Hong Kong decided, ignoring Japan's question completely. "But who's going to be the _nakoudo?" _

"I think France and England fit that role pretty well," Korea answered.

"But I don't think Kiku has proposed yet," Taiwan said, then turned to him. "Have you?" Japan let out a long breath, and buried his face in his hands. Without lifting his head he practically grovelled in the most exasperated/exhausted voice he possessed,

"Just tell me where America-kun went."

"Oh, so _now _you're going to propose?" Korea voiced. "A hospital might not be a very good place to do it."

"I'm not-"

"Oh, but you still need to get China and Vietnam's approval!" Taiwan cried. "I'm not sure if Vietnam is over the thing they had, and China will definitely want to be there for the ceremony."

"Taiwan, I don't think China's going to be speaking anytime soon let alone plan a wedding," Hong Kong reasoned.

"But he's the eldest of our family! He has to be there!" Taiwan argued.

"But I don't think Japan wants to postpone the wedding any longer than he has to!" Korea pointed out, closing his eyes and crossing his arms firmly across his chest. "Right Japan?" There was no answer. "Japan?" Korea opened his eyes and noticed that Japan was no longer with them.

"He's gone," Taiwan said, sounding a bit confused. Korea merely gave a hardy laugh and puffed his chest out.

"That's right, Japan! Go forth and propose to the one you love!" Korea exclaimed, standing in a rather heroic pose and pointing down the direction he assumed Japan ran off too. "We your family shall be waiting for you, my older brother!" With that, he gave another laugh, hands on his hips as he turned to his remaining two siblings. "Come forth, let us share this with Aniki!"

"Oh, I bet he'll be so happy to hear Japan has finally found someone after Greece!" Taiwan declared, clapping her delicate hands together happily.

"You know they're not really together, right?" Hong Kong said, lifting a nervous hand as his brother and sister hurried into China's room with the 'great news'. "I thought we were just kidding! I didn't think you two were serious!" However, it was too late, for Taiwan and Korea had already vanished, and Hong Kong was left standing out in the hallway, with only a few rushed nurses hurrying by for company. Hong Kong let out a breath, before running a hand through his hair. "Family," he muttered, before following his siblings into the room.

Japan, in the meantime, had found sanctuary behind a wall opposite of direction Korea had pointed, and had his head buried in his knees as he allowed himself to sit. He had never been so humiliated in all his life. His new found feelings for America were confusing enough without his family claiming he was going to marry him.

Feelings didn't necessarily mean he was in love with America, but America was his friend and he was currently being hurt. That obviously brought Japan's protective feelings to the surface. Japan let his fingers curl into the fabric of his jeans.

It was a bitter slap. The one time he wanted China's advice and comfort, China wasn't there to give it. Japan heard a slight crinkling above him, and lifted his head to see America standing over him, holding a colorful bag of chips with a smiling panda on the front.

"I thought you'd be hungry," he said as Japan hesitantly took the bag. America held another one that was already open and reached inside to pop a chip into his mouth. He then stepped next to Japan and slid down the wall until he was sitting with the other nation.

"Thank you," Japan murmured softly, opening the bag and looking in at the crispy chips inside. He wasn't hungry in the least, but took one anyway to be polite. He chewed half-heartedly and swallowed. It hit the bottom of his stomach like a thousand little needles.

"You didn't eat anything on the plane so I thought I'd bring you something," America said, looking straight ahead at the opposite white wall. "So, how was he?"

"I couldn't get him to talk," Japan sighed. "I tried, but it was like he wasn't there."

"I'm sorry," America offered.

"It's not your fault."

"I know, but I'm sorry you have to go through it anyway." America gave him a smile. "So, your family thinks we're getting married, huh?" Japan felt as if his eyes were going to simply pop out of their sockets as a dagger of dread and humiliation stabbed into his rapidly beating heart.

"You heard all that?"

"It was kind of hard not to, with Korea shouting about you running off to propose to me," America said, smiling still. Japan looked away, suddenly wishing America would go away and leave him in his misery. "Hey, don't be embarrassed, I know they were just jumping to conclusions, believe me, my family is just like that."

"Oh."

"So no worries! I'm not offended!"

"Well, that's good. Lord only knows I have enough to worry about without explaining my family." It was quiet after that, Japan feeling as if his heart was stuffed full of molten lead, and America munching away at the bag of chips.

"I'm also sorry about making you keep my boss a secret," America said suddenly, letting his chin rest on his knees, crumpling the empty bag and shoving it into the pocket of his jacket. "It's just that no one can know."

"I know," Japan sighed, burying his face in his knees once again. "That's why I'm not going to tell. But you should."

"I can't," America whispered. "Besides, there's nothing anyone can do."

"I just hate watching you get hurt," Japan said quietly. America didn't answer. They sat there for awhile, not saying anything. The hospital intercoms broke the silence and every so often a gurney towed by several nurses and a doctor stepped past them. Japan's heart beat pathetically and sluggishly behind his ribs, as if too heavy to function properly. There had to be something he could do, something to stop Reynolds from hurting America.

It came to him slowly, like a lantern making its way through a blizzard. It was crazy and so unlike him, Japan had to wait a moment to asses that he actually even considered it.

"America-kun," Japan said, lifting his head abruptly.

"Yes?" America looked at him curiously.

"I-" he was cut off by the sound of running footsteps and crying. Around the corner, ran a very upset Canada, who stopped once he came to the opposite wall and let his head rest against it. America's blue eyes widened in surprise and he abruptly stood up.

"Canada?" Canada jumped slightly and turned around, tears falling down his cheeks. "Canada, what are you doing here?" America asked.

"America?"

"I came here with Japan to see China, what's wrong?" America's eyes were full of concern as he stepped closer to his younger brother. Canada merely broke down again and buried his face in America's chest. "Come on, Bro, pull it together," America said, stepping back and wiping his brother's tears. "What happened?"

"F-France was attacked!" Canada wailed. "And Spain is dead! Madrid has been…has been..it's gone! All of it!" Canada trembled before falling against his older brother again sobbing. "They almost killed France! England found him! He's here! He's here with Italy and Germany! I-" Canada didn't finish, gripping the back of America's jacket.

"Jesus," America murmured, eyes wide as he absentmindedly stroked the back of Canada's head. He looked at Japan in horror. "That's terrible."

Japan didn't say anything, turning his gaze to his feet. Now Spain was dead, however, Japan couldn't let it sink in. There was just too much going on. His brain simply wanted to shut down, but out of everything it was being forced to process, the idea that had shown itself about dealing with America's boss was still there. He tried to squash it, but it kept creeping up like some black creature, whispering, making itself top priority. It was an impossible idea. It was dangerous and stupid, so he dismissed it.

Yet, as he watched America comfort Canada, his heart continued its slow painful pounding. Each beat hissing,

_Useless, weak, small. _

_

* * *

_

"Ah, Alfred, you've returned," President Reynolds said rising from his desk. America looked to the side, trying to hold back the rising terror in the pit of his stomach. He had to be better than this. He was a hero.

"Yes sir," America replied, already feeling his heart race. It was like a trapped animal behind the cage of his ribs.

"I heard France has been attacked, and Spain has been dissolved."

"Yes sir."

"Did you help Mr. Japan with China?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, well then, perhaps we can ask for a sort of repayment on China's part."

"But-" America held his tongue as President Reynolds gave him a dangerous look.

"But what, _America?" _Reynolds demanded, walking out from behind his desk and standing before his nation. America knew better than to meet his eye.

"Nothing."

There was a loud crack and America's eyes widened as he let his hand rest on his newly reddened cheek. Reynolds massaged the back of his hand, green eyes narrowed. "Don't insult my intelligence!" he snarled. "You were about to protest, weren't you?"

"I…" America trailed off unsure what to say, his cheek searing with pain.

"How badly was France hurt?" Reynolds asked, starting to circle around the terrified nation. America remembered the first time this happened how he had cursed and yelled and tried to be stubborn. He quickly found out that a nation could not raise a hand against his boss, especially if the people so deeply supported that boss. He hadn't felt so powerless since Vietnam, but America had to endure.

"He was hit in the head, but he was awake and fine. My brother was upset, but everything has calmed down over there despite Spain and South Italy's murder."

"Your brother, Mr. Canada, he's not too fond of me, is he?"

"He…" America trailed off again, and squeezed his eyes shut. "He likes you." America felt something tighten around his throat and gasped in pain as the back of his skull slammed against the wall behind him.

"Don't you lie to me!" Reynolds growled. "He doesn't like me! Tell me, does his Prime Minister know about what I have to do to keep you in line?"

"No," America breathed out, feeling his eyes water as the hand tightened. "I…told him…not to tell."

"LIAR!" Reynolds screamed, curling his hand into a fist and letting it connect with America's cheek. America tumbled to the floor, trying to blink away the dancing lights now swarming in his vision.

"If his Prime Minister knows, he'll spread it to the voters. They won't understand what it takes to keep you disciplined, to keep you in line and not falling all over yourself!" America felt a hand fist in his hair and jerk him up to his knees. "I can just hear what those radio bastards will say if they find out." America gave a yell as the President's knee connected with his chest, opening up the wound there. "You were a pathetic waste without me!" Reynolds hollered, kicking America in the gut. America felt all the air rush out of his lungs and tried to curl into himself, but the strong hand in his hair prevented it.

"The economy was falling apart! World opinion of you was at an all time low! I fixed you!" Reynolds declared, bringing the heel of his dress shoe down on America's ribs and throwing the nation to the side. America fell on his battered stomach, feeling blood soak the inside of his mouth.

"I made you better!" Reynolds yelled. "Do you know how much I had to go through to get other nations to take you seriously again?" Reynolds brought his foot down on America's spine, and the nation couldn't hold back the shriek of pain that tore out of his throat.

"I didn't tell," America wheezed. His lungs felt as if they had shriveled up on themselves. Reynolds reached down again and snarled his fingers in America's hair, slamming him back against the wall. America's head pounded harshly as he shut his eyes against the enraged President.

"Nations are collapsing and the people are starting to get scared! They need me! They need me to guide them! You need me!" He wrapped both hands around America's neck a squeezed. America's hands went to cover his boss's, but he found himself unable to try and pull them away. "I have to do this Alfred," Reynolds whispered, while America choked and wheezed. His side felt as if it wanted to cave in and the bruises already there sang together in a chorus of agony. Blood was in his mouth, he was choking. He was choking on his blood.

"I have to make sure you listen to me. I have to protect you, even from yourself," Reynolds hissed, grabbing a nearby lamp and bringing it down on America's head.

* * *

Okay, that was scary. Good thing Mr. Obama isn't like that (I hope) Okay, not the most action-packed chapter, but next one will make up for that. Dude, when we reveal who the first killer is, you guys are going to be like WHUUUUUT? Hope you liked it! And thank you all for enjoying it! Lucky is probably having a joygasim up in China right now, although she's been able to send me a few scattered e-mails here and there.

_nakoudo - _Is an old married couple who attends weddings in Japan that serve as matchmakers. Thought ya'll would enjoy that XD

_shiromuku - _A white wedding kimono worn by the bride. It's traditional for the groom's family to give the obi of the kimono to the bride as a sort of wedding gift. The obi symbolizes virtue and all that jazz.

_Yui-no - _Is kind of the equivalent of an engagement party, where both families of the bride and groom to be sit down and exchange gifts once they both agreed to the wedding. It usually consists of a formal dinner held on an "auspicious" day in the Japanese almanac.

Also, during the Civil War, Russia was the only world super power that openly supported the Union and wanted America to be one country. Russian and American relations were actually quiet good, but soon soured after the tsars were overthrown and the Romanov family executed.

**Lucky's A/N: Angel really has a way with words, doesn't she? -.-; Anyway, I'm here to tell you that the poll for Black is up on our profile. And yes, Zwolf is an option. XD**


	16. The Little Girl Murderer

Kay everybody, here's the thing. This is another short chapter, but I wanted to keep this scene separate, because although it's important it felt choppy and out of place with the rest of the chapter. So it gets a whole chapter of its own! :D

Oh and a little FYI "The Little Girl Murderer" is a serial killer in Japan who also went by the name "The Otaku Killer!" watch out ladies! Anyway, next chap will be longer, but again, this had to be separate to keep the mood. Enjoy!

Shout outs!

**hurleysuki, koholint, randomlvr1** (You have me waiting for your reviews now. They are like, everything), **KibalurvesHinata, Necromancer Staff, SparkleMuffin, marmoki, Miss Chelle, RingoNeko 201, spocketlaine, HandInTheCookieJar, greenpanic6, AnimeSoul17, PuppetMasterPuppet, I Brake For Bishounen Boys, lemonstroodles **(Glad you've delurked for us :D),** darandomninja, dragoneian, Diclonius Lilium, ninjafox369, Slagathor, Hidan-hime13, VIITheChariot, devsHaruhi-x, Anomaly E, xYukii, luvjOi** (I don't think they allow fanfic publications, but you can print it out if you want! Thanks for the HUGE compliment!), **mangarox14, Koneko Otome, Lochesh,** and...

**LightBender** I think I'll put the person who reviewed first down here that way you can see them better. And if only one person reviews, well they get an entire page to themselves!

**Disclaimer: **We don't own Hetalia. And from the way things are going with this story, that's a good thing.

* * *

The funerals for Romano and Spain were held together, and they were buried in a conjoint grave sharing the same tombstone. Iceland remembered it all as he walked along with Denmark back to his house. Both of their faces had been arranged in a fake expression of peace, and were wearing the finest suits purchasable. The mark the chord made around Spain's neck had been erased by makeup, while the puncture wound under Romano's chin from the heretic's fork had been sewn up and also erased.

Italy had been sobbing along with France, who held him to his chest so tenderly and non-perversely, Iceland had to do a double take. Even though the doctors insisted France stay over night for observation, he vehemently declined, insisting that he be there for Italy. So they had settled for pushing him around in a wheelchair, a job England willingly took despite his constant complaining. The funeral had been solemn, and even though Iceland had not been particularly close to either Spain or Romano, he was able to feel the sadness from those who were.

He had walked about the group of nations aimlessly, mostly because he wanted to be alone. Denmark had not left his side since Norway's disappearance, and although for the most part he was grateful for his friend's concern, being at a funeral, and not knowing if his brother was injured or not made him want to have a moment of privacy to pray. Still, Norway's capital of Oslo remained unharmed, and that gave Iceland hope.

Upon sitting down away from Romano and Spain's freshly dug graves. He had overheard Germany and Japan talking about Spain's death. Apparently, they were convinced Spain had not committed suicide. It was a difficult task for a nation to accomplish, and simply hanging oneself was not an option. Madrid had been wiped off the map, and Iceland listened as Japan and Germany scheduled a visit to France's house to investigate along with another to speak with Lithuania. Iceland, feeling as if he were intruding, then turned away to find Denmark, who was probably already worried sick.

Nussia had been given a closed casket funeral along with Romano and Spain. Iceland heard how the young boy was murdered, and knew it was for the best. Now, he looked down at the palm of his hand, where he clutched one of Norway's cross shaped hairpins. Iceland imagined his brother in a casket and nearly broke into tears. Still, he managed to hold back. He was, after all, descended from Vikings and was usually capable of keeping his emotions under wraps.

"Pretty tough today, huh?" Denmark said, noticing Iceland staring longingly at Norway's hairpin. Note, the _usually_. Iceland sniffed a bit and blew into the handkerchief he kept in the pocket of his uniform. This cold was particularly bad due to the amount of stress he was under and how little sleep he was getting. Although Denmark kept insisting he rest, Iceland had his people to reassure and his brother to find, and that left little time for sleeping.

"It was terrible. Poor Italy," he sighed after a moment. He had given Italy his condolences and apologized for barging into his house right after Romano was killed. Iceland felt horrible for it, and even a little embarrassed for crying when it was clearly Italy who had more to cry about. "I feel so stupid and selfish now."

"We didn't know, and it was really nice of him to help us find Norway," Denmark said, as he kicked at a rock on the side of the road. It tumbled away into the surrounding forest and Iceland followed it with his eyes. His fingers tightened around Norway's hairpin as watched the stone tumble into the thick brush. The bushes rustled in protest and fell still again as the two nations walked on.

"Denmark?" Iceland questioned, letting his eyes fall to his feet.

"Yeah?" Denmark replied, toying with the handle of his giant battle axe. It was the only thing that gave Iceland reassurance that they were safe. Denmark was positively fierce when using it, and if they were to be confronted by a killer, Iceland knew they had more than a good chance to escape.

"Do you really think Norway is okay?" Denmark gave him a reassuring grin.

"I do. Come on, Norway and I are best friends," he said. "I know he's perfectly fine. Our family is descended from Vikings after all." Iceland still didn't feel any better. Denmark was an incurable optimist who could see a half empty glass and claim it was half full, whereas Iceland viewed himself as a realist. Norway did have a habit of wandering off every so often, but he was usually back within the day, or if not, he always called to let Iceland know he was okay.

Iceland felt a shiver run through his spine and stepped closer to Denmark. He thought he heard something in the trees and felt his heart begin to beat rapidly in his chest. It was probably just an animal, but he looked up to Denmark and saw his eyes had narrowed and his fingers tighten on the handle of his axe.

"Did you hear that?"

"I did," Denmark confirmed. There was more rustling, and Iceland felt as if his heart was going to explode. There was definitely someone following them. Denmark seemed to realize this as well and pulled Iceland closer, unsheathing the axe from his back.

"Stay close to me," he ordered. Iceland didn't need to be told twice and simply nodded. They kept walking, stopping every so often to hear the rustling increase from both sides of the road. They were being stalked by more than one creature. Finally, Denmark halted again and turned to face the noise, drawing Iceland behind him, and readying his axe for battle. "Show yourself!" he yelled, bracing his feet apart. Iceland merely pressed himself against Denmark's back, looking over the taller nation's shoulder.

"Aw, Yellow you ruined it with your big duck feet!" a filtered voice snarled.

"Oh, and you're just Miss Twinkle Toes aren't you, Purple?"

"Both of you stop fighting," another distorted voice said.

"But White, it's fun to watch them argue," a smaller voice stated. "I think it's cute, they're like a married couple."

"Pink?" Yellow's filtered voice questioned.

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"H-Hey, let's all be nice here," a new voice warned. "We need to work together now. Black gave us specific instructions, and I don't want to fail him again.

"Yes, since you screwed up killing Russia, Green," another new voice reminded.

"We're getting off track, we need to get on with this!" Purple declared. "Yellow, we have a truce. Red, stop picking on Green." Iceland felt his fingers twist in the back of Denmark's black uniform as six figures seemed to dissolve out of the forest. They were dressed completely in black, while each one had a different colored mask that hid their identity. Iceland felt his throat narrow and his palms sweat as he clung to Denmark, who had also visibly tensed.

"Who are you?" Denmark demanded.

"We are the Seven Lovely Killers," the nation in the purple mask replied. "Although, there's only six of us here tonight. It seems Blue had other important matters to attend to. Excuse me while I sigh dramatically."

"Lovely?" Denmark spat.

"Well, we were originally going to go by Seven Little Killers, but Purple insisted we change it to 'lovely' because he's convinced 'little' is referring to our vital regions," the nation in the yellow mask explained. Even though his voice was distorted by a device installed in the mask, Iceland could still hear the obvious exasperation.

"What do you want?" Denmark asked lowly, knuckles turning white as he kept his axe ready.

"It's always the same questions," the one in the white mask sighed. "Always, what do you want?"

"Why are you doing this?" the one in the Pink mask added.

"Who are you?" the green-masked killer chuckled. They began to advance, stalking like a pack of rabid dogs. Denmark took a hesitant step back, lifting one arm to keep Iceland behind him.

"Oh, the tension is killing me!" Purple exclaimed. "Let's just get Iceland and get this over with." Iceland felt his heart sputter weakly and stop. They wanted him?

"What do you want with Iceland?" Denmark demanded, his posture turning from threatening to protective.

"That's for us to know Iceland to find out!" Pink said rather childishly.

"You know, you smell like dog poop and broken dreams," Yellow observed as he looked at the considerably shorter Pink.

"Yellow?" Pink asked.

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Iceland," Denmark whispered out of the corner of his mouth as the other masked figures began to argue amongst themselves.

"Y-Yes?" Iceland replied, eyes wide and terrified.

"Run. Run as fast as you can and don't look back, I'll hold them off for as long as I can. See if you can find help."

"I-I don't want to leave you," Iceland whimpered. Denmark looked over his shoulder and gave his trademark grin, but Iceland saw the fear beneath the confident mask.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be okay. If you run, we have a better chance of finding help. But you need to go while they're distracted," he whispered. "So go." Iceland gave a shaky nod and stepped away from Denmark, who's pose returned to the previous threatening stance.

"A little wobbly on your feet aren't you Purple?" Yellow teased.

"Do you think you'll be okay?" Green asked.

"Of course, just had one too many at the funeral," Purple replied, waving his hand as if to dismiss the matter completely.

"Just don't faint on us. I'd hate to have to drag your sorry ass back to base and make excuses to Black about why we couldn't finish such a simple job," Red stated, crossing his arms.

"I don't know about you guys, but I never want to disappoint Black," Pink chirped. "He's so nice and treats us like family. I bet he'd be proud to know we all found each other so soon!"

"Yes, but we still don't know each other's identities," Yellow pointed out. "However, we know how to contact one another and that's a good thing."

"Um, aren't we forgetting something?" White spoke up, gesturing to Denmark and Iceland. The other five killers redirected their gazes, and Iceland thought for sure he saw their eyes glow red from the black holes of their masks.

"Go!" Denmark hissed. Without another word, Iceland obeyed and bolted into the forest by the road, bursting through the bushes and feeling his uniform tear on the gnarled branches. He ran as fast as he could, ducking under a few low hanging branches and swerving around a few tall trunks. He didn't know where he was going or how to get out, all he knew was that he needed to find help and, for the love of God, not get caught.

He felt tears burn in the corners of his eyes as he ran. He prayed Denmark would come out alive and safe, but it wasn't a fair fight. Six against one was never a fair fight. Even though Denmark was fierce and incredibly powerful, even he had his limits. Those nations had killed Switzerland in less than a night and knocked Russia into a coma. All in all, Iceland was a realist, and the odds were stacked against Denmark.

Iceland risked a glance over his shoulder as his lungs began to burn and was relieved to find the thick forest behind him undisturbed. He stopped after a moment and panted, hands on his knees. His heart was pounding away and his stuffy nose was making it hard to breathe properly. He looked down at his hand and let out a breath when he saw he hadn't dropped Norway's hairpin.

There was a snap behind him, and Iceland whirled around to see the figure with the red mask watching him, the fading sunlight glinting off the blade of a small hand scythe. Iceland gave a small yell and bolted again, feeling the tears run down his cheeks as he pushed branches out of the way and tripped over a few obstacles, only to scramble desperately to his feet again. The forest was merciless, tearing into him at every chance it got. His lungs were threatening to explode, but he pushed himself onwards out of sheer terror.

Iceland's boot caught in a small hole in the ground, and he heard a dull pop as his ankle twisted and he fell. Pain caused his eyes to water, but he still got to his feet. He couldn't stop, not here, not now. His ankle throbbed with fire every time he put weight on it, but he hobbled on, fingers still tight around the hairpin as he breathed heavily, chest heaving.

Finally, he was too exhausted to continue and fell against the trunk of a tree, curling into himself and whimpering. His uniform was covered in burs and mud, and looking down at his hands, he noticed the nail of his left pointer finger was missing, replaced by a well of blood. He managed to run his hands through his hair and pulled out a few twigs and leaves. He was sure his face was covered in cuts, but didn't bother to rub his cheeks to check.

Instead, he pressed himself to the trunk of the tree, covering his mouth and nose with his hand to muffle his breathing. Denmark hadn't lasted long against them at all, and he suppressed terrified sobs. He merely sat with his knees curled to his chest, trembling and trying to remain as quiet as possible. Oh God, what if they wanted to kill him?

Iceland flinched at every sound. The whistling of the wind through the trees was suddenly the killers on the move. So this was what it felt like to be hunted. He was afraid to blink, afraid to make the slightest sound. He tried not to cry, but it was impossible. He had never been so afraid in his life, but other then the crippling terror gripping him, he felt fine. They hadn't attacked his capital or his people so no matter what they did to him, he wouldn't die.

However, that wasn't necessarily a blessing.

Iceland had to move if he really wanted to get out alive. If he stayed in the same place, they'd find him for sure. Removing his wildly shaking hand from his quivering mouth he slowly lowered it to the ground. Iceland pushed himself to his knees and stood up, still leaning heavily against the trunk of the tree. His pant leg had torn and blood dribbled from his knee, he only noticed because of the sting.

Iceland's eyes were wide as his dirtied hands gripped the bark.

_On the count of three, I'll run_, he thought, trembling horribly. He couldn't think about Denmark now, but he still held Norway's pin as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. _One_, he began, closing his eyes briefly, but opening them again fearfully. _Two, oh God, please don't let them kill me_. The forest was strangely silent, as if it were holding its breath, watching him and his futile attempt to escape. _Three_, he finished.

He pivoted on his heel, ran out from behind the tree, and was met by a pair of glaring brown eyes, staring widely at him from behind a red mask. An involuntary shriek burst from Iceland's chest and he fell backwards, scraping his elbow on a jutting rock.

"Well, hello there. I've been looking for you, Iceland," Red said, his distorted voice adding to the near blind panic threatening to overtake Iceland's mind. Red cocked his head, much like a the way a predatory bird looks at its prey before pecking, all the while brandishing the hand scythe. Iceland scrambled backwards as Red advanced, eyes wild with sick delight. "I can't wait to do all sorts of things to you."

"No! Leave me alone!" Iceland hollered before turning over on his stomach and launching into an adrenaline fueled sprint. A branch tore into his cheek but he ignored it, falling and twisting his wrist painfully as he tried to catch himself. He still clung to Norway's hairpin, throwing a few terrified glances over his shoulder, but finding it impossible to tell if the killer in the red mask was following him.

Unfortunately, his last desperate attempt to see if anyone was chasing after him, caused the panicked nation to miss the cut in the forest floor, and he gave another scream as his foot was met with nothing but air. He fell face-first into the rocky slope, biting clean through his lower lip. He slid down until he came to the bottom, tiny pebbles digging into his palms and he gingerly sat up. He spat out a stream of blood, hating the metallic taste in his mouth.

He turned his tear-stained and muddy face upwards and gave another yell when he saw the red masked killer before him, scythe raised high above his head. Iceland managed to throw himself out of the way as the curved blade came down, sinking into the damp soil.

"Fuck!" Red snarled, yanking on the wooden handle. Iceland took the distraction to force himself back on his feet. However, his throat was raw and his chest tight with pain as he limped as fast as he could away from the trapped killer.

"Look, I found him, Yellow!" Iceland tried to hobble away faster, but tripped on a ridge of a rock and fell again on his side, closing his eyes in agony as a shock of pain tore up his elbow.

"Gold star for you, Purple," Yellow laughed. Iceland opened his eyes in time to see the two approach. "Green, Pink, you know what to do." Iceland turned his head again in time to see the other two grip both of his legs and begin to drag him away.

"NO!" he shrieked, digging his nails into the earth, tears streaming down his face as he began to scream. He allowed panic to overtake him and he kicked desperately, wiggling like a fish caught on a hook. Green and Pink held him tightly as they pulled him along. Iceland was sobbing hysterically, trying to grab anything, while miniature trenches were being formed by his fingers in the dirt. "NO, PLEASE, NO!"

"What did I miss?" the voice of White questioned.

"Nothing yet," Green grunted as Iceland gave a particularly strong kick. Iceland wailed, fingers scrambling for a hold and not finding one sufficient enough to stop the killers from dragging him.

"Aw, he's crying," Yellow teased. "No worries, love. Black ordered us not to kill you, but we do get to have a bit of fun."

"Ha, staff bonding time," Green giggled as he towed the struggling Iceland along. Finally, the killers seemed to get him where they wanted, and stopped pulling him. Iceland felt a hand painfully knot itself in his hair and yank roughly until he was on his back staring up at the canopy and the setting sun.

"He's a persnickety little devil isn't he?" Red appeared above him, scythe hooked behind his head lazily.

"'Persnickety'?" Purple questioned. "You trying to increase your vocabulary or something?"

"Eh." Red shrugged. "Damn it sucked chasing him through half this entire fucking forest."

"Let me go!" Iceland wailed, reaching up and trying to dislodge the hand in his hair. "Let me go you psychopaths!"

"Well, that's one we've never heard before," Red sighed, reaching down and taking one of Iceland's dirt caked hands and pulling it to the side. The killer then placed his knee on Iceland's forearm and let his weight bear down, effectively pinning it.

"Hey, he's got something in his hand," Yellow voiced. Iceland felt his fingers being pried open and the comforting feel of Norway's hairpin vanish. "Aw, a token of his little lost love. Well, Blue's idea of a gift turned out to be a wonderful ink pot for my game with China."

"You're a sick fuck, do you know that?" Purple laughed. Upon hearing that, Iceland panicked all over again, screaming and writhing against the hands that held him. Iceland kicked his feet and watched in horror as Green released his leg, took his other arm, and mimicked Red's movement. His arms were now successfully pinned.

"Look who's talking, Oh Hanger of Spaniards," Yellow retorted. Iceland assumed Yellow was the one holding his hair. "And then you hit poor little Francis on the head?"

"Ah, but he went down beautifully. Too bad Blue's missing all the fun. You must be heartbroken Green."

"I'm dying inside." Iceland shrieked incoherently, eyes wild with panic as he twisted his body from side to side. He was trapped and there was no escape. The feeling of claustrophobia overtook him and his fingers clenched and unclenched in irregular spasms uselessly.

"Oh, someone shut him up," Red complained. "His screaming is giving me a headache."

"Let him scream," Pink spoke up. Iceland felt a weight on his chest as Pink straddled him, and watched in horror and the smallest killer withdrew a scalpel from the folds of his black clothes. "It's my turn anyway, and to me screaming is just another form of singing." Iceland noticed the eyes visible from the two holes in the mask crinkle in an apparent grin.

"Don't do this, please," he sobbed, kicking his now free legs uselessly. "Please don't do this."

"Sorry," Pink giggled, raising the scalpel. "But, we have our orders. You understand, don't you?"

"White and I will just watch over here," Purple declared. "After all, we've done most of the work so far."

"Please, what have you done besides complain?" White asked. "I'm the one that killed Switzerland and Romano."

"I helped," Purple insisted.

"Guy's let's not fight," Green repeated. "Let's hurry this up and get back to Black."

"No," Iceland moaned, still kicking feebly, tears trickling down his battered face. "You bastards killed Norway."

"Not yet," Yellow corrected from somewhere close to his head. "Blue apparently has plans for him, so we're to keep him until he's needed. I have to say, this little cross doohickey is rather adorable. I might keep it as a trophy."

"Enough talk!" Pink snapped impatiently. "I want to play." With that, he lowered the scalpel, digging the blade into Iceland's neck. The pinned nation watched in absolute horror as his own blood spattered across the pink material of the mask.

His screams rose as the sun set.

* * *

Again, sorry for the short chappie, but believe me, it will turn out better this way. Hope you don't hate me. Really let me know what you think, because I'm a bit self conscious about this thing. Recently I went to read the latest chapter of "Ahora Podeis Besar al Novio" by **EJR-Blue-Rose **and she sounded really bummed because of a few reviews she got. That in turn depressed the hell out of me because she is an amazing authoress who I look up to, so seeing her so sad made me too. Sorry I'm rambling, but it's at the end of the chapter so (sticks tongue out)


	17. Monster of Florence

Hey, next chap! And she's a long one too! Hope you like it. Shout outs and the rest of my ramblings are at the bottom. :D

**Disclaimer: **If Lucky and Angel owned Hetalia...I think you guys can finish that sentence for us. We don't though, for all you lawyers out there.

* * *

"So what do you think, Japan?" Germany asked as they made their way up the steps to Lithuania's house. They had just finished their investigation of France's estate, and Italy had practically torn the place apart, now more determined then ever to find the killers… and avenge his brother? The thought of _that_ thought passing through Italy's mind was alien to Germany, but after all the years of trying his damned hardest to keep Italy out of trouble, he learned to just go with the flow.

"Ve, _Nihon?" _Italy piped after Japan remained silent. Japan gave a few startled blinks and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, my mind has a tendency for wandering lately," he apologized, bowing his head briefly. "What was the question?" Germany opened his mouth to inquire further on Japan's strange behavior, but was promptly cut off by Italy.

"Germany wants to know what you think about what we saw at France's house," he explained excitedly.

"Oh." Germany's eyes narrowed as he noticed Japan's neck shift slightly in a gulp. He was definitely hiding something. "Well, we've concluded that Spain-san was murdered, as there was no chair or place to stand anywhere near where he was hung. My hypothesis is that the killer knocked France-san out and bound Spain-san's hands behind his back before throwing the noose over his head and hanging him from the rafters to make it look like a suicide. Then once Spain-san was dead, he cut the ropes and ran away."

"Ve," Italy chirped. "Nations can't kill themselves the way humans can. The only way I know how is if they refuse to join one side in a civil war. My guess is that the killer who killed Switzerland is the same killer who attacked France nii-chan. Both murders were staged poorly to make them seem like a suicide: Switzerland with a clean knife in his hand, and then Spain hanging himself when there was nothing for him to jump off of. Also, the autopsies showed that Spain was also hit in the head, meaning he too was knocked unconscious after France."

"Plus all the trouble of destroying Madrid," Japan added. "And since we found the white sequin at Switzerland-san's crime scene, we can conclude that the killer White, we'll call him or her, also killed Spain-san." Germany merely nodded, having no trouble following their logic. Now all that remained was testing America's theory about Poland.

"The monster that killed Lovi was most definitely a different nation then the one that killed Spain and Switzerland," Italy concluded. "There was absolutely no attempt to make it look as if Lovi killed himself, but even if there was, I know Lovi would never try something like that." Germany studied Italy in concern for a moment, noticing the smaller nation was paler and seemed a much weaker then usual. However, Germany didn't say anything, knowing that stopping Italy from doing something stupid was like stopping a speeding freight train by setting up a blockade pumpkins on the tracks.

Besides, Italy was his own nation who could make decisions for himself, and although Germany couldn't say he approved of Italy continuing to investigate the murders, he knew it wasn't his place to stop him.

"Also, the killer stalking China probably didn't kill Lovi either, because around the time he and Spain were murdered, that killer was presumably killing Nussia," Italy continued. "That means that there are at least three different killers running around working together, but I'm pretty sure there are more involved. Taking out four nations almost simultaneously in less than twelve hours proves that."

"We already know they wear different colored masks. We have a white, a green, and an unknown color--the color of the killer who caused China's mental breakdown and killed Nussia," Japan finished.

"So, how do you think the scenario with Spain played out?" Germany asked. Italy's brows furrowed and he curved a finger under his lip in thought.

"This is just a guess, but here's what I think. Spain obviously knew France was coming over to his house that day. But if you remember, Japan, he heard the message France left presumably while Lovi was being attacked. Now, Spain isn't one to put unnecessary blame on anyone else, but he was blinded by grief. He loved Lovi so much so it makes sense he blamed France for what happened. My guess is he came to his senses after he hit France over the head, but that was when the killer--let's just assume it was the white masked one--attacked him and hung him to make it look like a suicide."

"So this is what we've concluded: the white killer killed Switzerland-san and Spain-san, the green killer attacked Russia-san and killed Romano-san, while the unknown color weakened China in order to kill Nussia," Japan stated.

"Still, don't you two think it's convenient that France happened to call and cancel their meeting?" Germany pointed out.

"Yes, but we've already spoken to Seychelles, and she confirms his story," Japan replied.

"Plus I know France would never hurt anyone," Italy added. "And besides, France, Spain and your brother make up the perverted trio, remember?"

He thought he'd successfully blocked that traumatizing fact from his mind, but apparently it was still buried in The Hypothetical Overly Crowded Cabinet of Memories Best Forgotten of his mind.

_Joy_…

"Ah," was all Germany said as they finally made it to the door. They didn't say anything after that, but Germany noticed Japan's usually relaxed shoulders were tight with tension and he seemed tired. "Japan, I have to say you're acting quite strangely lately," he voiced. Japan didn't respond and promptly knocked on Lithuania's door. Shrill barking immediately sounded from behind it along with the shattering of glass. _I see how you are then, _Germany thought, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. _Du verheimlichst uns natürlich etwas. _

"Hush, Kitty!" an anxious voice yelled within. It was obviously Lithuania's.

"Latvia, get your stupid dog!" they heard Estonia shout. After another few moments, the barking was quieted, the door opened a crack and Lithuania stuck his head out. He gave a friendly smile, brown hair slightly disheveled as he opened the door fully upon seeing who they were. He was wearing a white apron that was stained by various sauces and liquids while holding a filthy feather duster in his right had.

"Germany, Italy, Japan," he greeted kindly, giving each one a curt nod. "What can I do for you? Oh, but first come in and make yourselves comfortable." He moved out of the way as the other three nations entered. Latvia appeared behind him, holding the little white puppy to his chest as he stared at the three guests nervously. "I'm sorry about the mess."

They entered the living room and Germany looked around briefly, finding it comfortable and small. A long couch was stationed before an elegant hearth, while a wooden rocking chair was standing to the side. It looked incredibly old, but sturdy. Germany guessed it was an antique and was probably incredibly valuable. Estonia was currently lounging on the floor reading a book, looking up only briefly to see the visitors, before dismissing them and returning to his reading. "Go ahead and take a seat," Lithuania directed.

Japan and Italy sat down on the couch, but just as Germany was about to follow, he took a step and felt his boot sink into something soft and incredibly smelly. His face tensed (a vague reflection of his expression when trying to teach Italy to throw grenades) and very slowly looked down.

He just stepped in dog shit.

He _knew _there was a good reason why he should have stayed in bed today.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Lithuania exclaimed, his face reddening in shame as he rushed over. "Latvia's been trying to potty train Kitty, but he's not having much luck. Here, take off your boot and I'll clean this off for you." Germany didn't have time to respond or even bend down to do as Lithuania asked as the other nation was already unlacing the strings and pulling it off. Lithuania held the boot by the top of the ankle, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he saw the brown mush smashed into the sole.

"I-I'll clean it off the carpet, Lithuania," Latvia said nervously, placing Kitty on the floor. Kitty merely sat down by her master's leg and gave a small whine. Germany clumsily made his way over to sit next to Italy, who was covering his mouth with his hand, trying to hold back laughter. Even Japan was sporting a poorly restrained smile.

Lithuania returned a moment later with Germany's freshly cleaned boot and handed it back to the larger nation, who simply shoved it back on his foot, roughly laced the strings and tied them tightly.

"Again, I'm really sorry," Lithuania apologized, his lips turning upwards in a shaky smile.

"It's alright," Germany sighed. Italy smothered a giggle and Germany took the time to close his eyes momentarily in attempts to retreat to his happy place, where he was by himself surrounded by wurst and beer. Oh how he loved beer. Beer never clung to him whining and complaining. Beer never asked him to do stupid things. Beer also never laughed at him just because he stepped in animal feces.

"So, what can I do for you?" Lithuania asked. Germany opened his eyes to find their host still standing, as if ready to rush off and serve whatever they needed. America was right about Lithuania, he was unusually selfless. "Would you all like a drink? A snack? Coffee perhaps? I have to admit ever since living with America, I've grown fond of it myself."

"No thank you, Lithuania-san," Japan answered. "Actually, we'd like to ask you a few questions." Lithuania's kindly face turned neutral as he sat down in the rocking chair and turned to look at Estonia, who was still placidly reading on the floor.

"Estonia, please take Latvia outside," he ordered, his voice low. It was the kind of voice no one dared question, quiet, but dangerous. Estonia looked up surprised, but nodded before obediently getting to his feet and disappearing behind them.

"Come on, Latvia, you can get it later," they heard him say before a door slammed shut a few moments later.

"They're having trouble with riots, so I'm letting them live here while they try to sort it out," Lithuania explained, his green eyes carefully guarded.

"Yes, America-san has informed us of this," Japan replied.

"America has been concerned for me lately, but if you see him again, let him know that I'm okay. I hate it when he worries, especially about me," Lithuania explained, a forced smile coming to his face. Germany was noticing quite a bit of Japan's tells and the Asian nation gave yet another by flexing his fingers. Yes, he was definitely hiding something, and that something had to do with America.

"I have to ask," Japan began. "China and Russia formed and alliance in 2008. You gained your sovereignty from Russia in 1990, but you were living with him along with China. Why was that?"

"Russia was having difficulties of his own with Georgia, so I went over there to try and negotiate peace. It worked so I stuck around to make sure it was followed through. My brothers insisted they go with me. America was visiting frequently so I figured it was safe. However, after Russia relapsed, I quickly left again," Lithuania explained. He wasn't smiling now and he seemed stiff.

"And how did Poland react to this?" Italy asked. Lithuania turned his eyes to the Italian. Germany noted the way his fingers curled around the armrests of the chair.

"He wasn't happy, but after what Russia did to us I think that's perfectly understandable."

"How did he react after Russia 'relapsed' as you put it?" Italy asked, his usually cheerful face now as serious as Japan's. Germany had to blink in surprise. Perhaps the two were spending more time together than originally thought.

"He was angry, but again, he and I care for each other so I think that's perfectly understandable."

"Of course," Japan assured, nodding. "America also mentioned a little maid toy he gave you shortly before the Great Depression." It was so subtle that Germany barely caught it, but it was there. Lithuania's eyes narrowed dangerously for all but a millisecond, but quickly grew guarded again. So America's theory did make sense.

"I fail to see what that has to do with anything," Lithuania replied carefully.

"America-san seems to think that you're protecting Poland, and after going over the evidence we've collected so far, his theory holds merit," Japan explained. Germany didn't even have to look for the tells. Lithuania's face became clearly angry and he sat up straight in his chair, green eyes flashing dangerously.

"When did he tell you this?" Germany looked to Japan, also wanting to know the answer. Every time he had asked, Japan simply brushed him off, which was quickly leading Germany down a road of deep irritation.

"I happened to have a few meetings with him, and you're right. He is concerned about you. He's mentioned you acting strange lately. He also happened to ask about the investigation. I'm sure you've heard that the blond hair we found near Switzerland-san's crime scene was a horse hair."

"Yes, who hasn't?"

"Well, America-san seems to think Poland-san was acting strangely when he picked you up in St. Petersburg the night Russia-san was attacked. I mentioned the horse hair and he seems to recall giving you a little maid toy with a broom made of horse hair." Lithuania's face was completely guarded, and although Germany wasn't a detective, he knew enough about body language to see Japan was treading dangerous waters.

"That he did," Lithuania confirmed. "But I fail to see what that has to do with anything."

"We think Poland killed Switzerland so that someone else would kill Russia, and that you're protecting him." Italy cut right to the chase, never once blinking as he stared at Lithuania. Lithuania gave a dangerous frown.

"How, may I ask, did you get to this conclusion?"

"Lithuania-san, is someone threatening you?" Japan asked suddenly. Lithuania's frown deepened, but there was a flash of fear in his eyes that Germany just barely caught.

"No."

"Because we think you left the horse hair at Switzerland's murder scene," Italy said, ignoring Lithuania's reply completely. "To let someone know that it was Poland. He has ponies, does he not?" At this, Lithuania stood up abruptly his face dark.

"I'm going to have to ask you three to leave," Lithuania said, his voice controlled and even. His body was rigid and Germany looked to his companions and was surprised to find Italy smiling triumphantly. Japan's expression was neutral as he stood up and gestured for Germany and Italy to follow.

"Very well, this has been quite informative, thank you for your time," Japan said, bowing politely.

"Poland didn't kill anyone," Lithuania stated. "And no one is threatening me to keep him safe, because there's no need to. I would protect Poland with my life regardless if ordered to or not. Besides, I gave that maid toy to Liechtenstein years ago." Germany watched as both Japan and Italy's eyes narrowed.

"Liechtenstein?" Italy questioned.

"Yes," Lithuania confirmed. "I gave it to her as a birthday gift, and by that time all the hairs to the broom had fallen off. I'm sorry I couldn't have been more of a help, but neither Poland nor I have anything to do with these murders."

"Yes, that's what everyone's been saying about themselves," Japan murmured. Lithuania's upper lip curled slightly, showing disgust. The tension was thick in the air as Lithuania's usually friendly green eyes glared into Japan's suspicious brown.

"Please leave," Lithuania said finally, gesturing towards the door.

"Come on," Japan said to his companions, closing his eyes and heading towards the door.

"Right, Japan!" Italy chirped, all seriousness gone as he skipped merrily to follow the other nation. Germany looked at Lithuania and found that his previous display of controlled anger had wilted into weariness. Now that Japan and Italy were gone but no doubt waiting by the front door, Lithuania had let all defenses down and he seemed to be hobbling along on his last legs. Germany found himself feeling sorry for the smaller nation and apologized.

"Um, _Es tut mir leid_.I hope they didn't offend you in anyway, it's just that they're more determined then ever to find the killers after Romano's murder." Lithuania gave a weary sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

"_Es ist in Ordnung," _Lithuania said. "I hope I didn't come off as rude, but if what Japan said is true, then someone is obviously framing Poland. Yes, he was strangely happy that Russia was attacked, but Russia did horrible things to him and Poland's always been hot-tempered," he confided. "I know Poland and I know he'd never kill anyone. Belarus came to same conclusion, but I know she's wrong."

"I understand," Germany sighed, placing a hand on Lithuania's shoulder. "A few of my friends are under suspicion as well." Lithuania smiled again, and reached up to place his own hand on Germany's shoulder.

"I just hope none of them are guilty," Lithuania offered. "And I hope those who are will be caught and punished accordingly." Germany found himself smiling at the hope in the other nation's voice. America always had nothing but good things to say about Lithuania, and Germany was quickly figuring out why.

"Well, I better get out there before they hurt someone." Lithuania chuckled. "I'm serious, unfortunately." Germany ran the palm of his hand over his slicked back blond hair and closed his eyes again in exasperation.

"Oh, well then I'll see you out then!" Lithuania offered, placing the feather duster on the rocking chair and wiping his hand on his apron.

"_Ačiū_," Germany thanked in what little he knew of Lithuanian.

"Oh, you speak my language?" Lithuania asked in surprise, keeping in step with Germany as the other nation cautiously looked about the floor for anymore of Kitty's presents.

"I only know the basics," Germany admitted, rubbing the back of his head. Lithuania merely gave another friendly smile.

"Well in that case, _Aš Žalioji," _Lithuania laughed, bringing up his hand to cover his mouth.

"What does that mean?" Germany asked.

"It means it's okay," he replied as they approached the front door. "My language isn't terribly widespread, so I understand that not many nations speak it."

"Oh."

"Well, here we are," Lithuania announced, stopping before the door and opening it for Germany. He noticed Japan and Italy talking at the bottom step of the porch. Germany watched them for a moment from the doorway, feeling slightly left out. "Please tell them again that I'm sorry I couldn't be much help."

"Will do," Germany replied, stepping outside. "I'll let America know you're doing alright."

"Oh, please do, and let him know that I'm thinking about him as well and that I hope these murders aren't causing him too much trouble." Lithuania turned his neck slightly, and Germany saw the tips of the long ragged scars left long ago by Russia's whip. Perhaps there was more to this than what he first thought.

"Goodbye, Germany." Lithuania waved, the gentle smile still on his face.

"Goodbye." Germany returned the wave and turned around to head toward his two companions, who had looked up from their conversation to watch him descend. He heard the door shut behind him and looked out into Lithuania's yard. It was large and flat with emerald grass and very pretty flowerbeds near the fence. Further away, Estonia had stationed himself under a tree and was continuing to read, while Latvia chased Kitty around in a circle, an unusual smile on his face.

"I think we found what we were looking for," Italy proclaimed, one finger hoisted in the air and nodding with a sly smile on his face.

"What exactly were you looking for?" Germany asked. "We got kicked out because you two had no tac-" He was interrupted by Italy's finger jabbing him in the nose rather painfully and he reeled back, clutching it and moaning miserably.

"That's where you're wrong Germany!" Italy declared, finger still in the same position as Germany rubbed his sore nose bitterly.

"Then what did you accomplish?" Germany growled, trying to hold back the water in his eyes.

"First let's walk," Italy proclaimed, practically marching down the walk, the aura of happiness surrounding his body. Japan followed silently, his face making it apparent his mind was miles away already. Germany stared at him for a moment once the pain in his nose subsided, but returned his attentions to Italy, once the other nation began to speak.

"Well, did you see the way Lithuania tensed up when Japan asked if someone was threatening him?"

"Of course, but do you really think he was lying?" Germany asked.

"I do!" Italy exclaimed. "He's definitely lying."

"I did notice he got a bit scared at one point," Germany recalled.

"Great detective abilities!" Italy complimented. "That's how Japan and I figured he was lying. He's definitely hiding something and that story about him giving that doll to Liechtenstein, I don't buy it!"

"So you think he still has the doll?" Germany questioned.

"No way, I believe he _did_ give the doll to Liechtenstein, but his timing is off," Italy explained as the three headed deeper into the city surrounding Lithuania's house. "I think he gave the doll to Liechtenstein after he placed the horse hair, but stripped the broom of it before giving it to her, which is going to be a problem."

"Because there'd be no evidence of there ever being hair on the broom at all," Germany concluded.

"Exactly, but we need to ask Liechtenstein first and possibly have a look at the doll," Italy added. Germany hummed, deciding Italy was right. It was still strange that the usually ditsy nation was actually not only useful, but crucial, yet if Italy was anything, it was unpredictable. Italy turned to Japan and tilted his head. "What do you think, Japan?" Japan's eyes were far off as he stared at something across the street. Germany halted abruptly and Italy mimicked the action. Japan, not noticing the other two nations had stopped, kept walking. Germany coughed abruptly and called out,

"Japan!" Japan turned around abruptly, his eyes wide. Then he lowered his gaze, cheeks reddening in shame as he turned and walked back towards them. If Japan had been a dog, Germany was sure he'd have his tail between his legs.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, still not looking at them directly.

"Oh, it's okay! It happens to m-"

"What's wrong with you?" Germany cut across Italy, who was now pouting with his eyes closed and arms crossed. Japan looked up at him with what could only be described as a guilty expression.

"Nothing Germany-sama, I just have a lot on my mind, that's all." Germany gave him a doubting look.

"Ever since you went to stalk--"

"Spy," Japan corrected.

"Spy on America, you've been distant, and I mean more distant than usual. You found out something didn't you?"

"No, let's just drop this, okay?"

"Oka-" Italy began, only to be cut off by Germany again.

"No, not okay. What's going on?"

"As I've said before, Germany-sama, nothing."

"Well, then why don't we get some pas-"

"It's obviously not nothing, because it's more than apparent that it's been on your mind," Germany growled, leaning forward slightly. A flash of anger appeared on Japan's face and he too leaned forward.

"I didn't find out anything that would help us with the investigation."

"Oh, well it's probably not imp-" Italy tried again, yet again cut off by an increasingly annoyed Germany.

"Then what did you find out?"

"Nothing that concerns you, Germany-sama!" Japan's voice raised an octave, meaning he was getting uncomfortable.

"Let's all jus-"

"What did you find out about America?" Germany interrogated. "Don't bother saying nothing because I know it's not true!"

"Guys, we're making a scene!" Italy whined, glancing around the streets and watching as a few people stopped what they were doing to watch the scene unfold. Fortunately, none of Lithuania's people seemed to speak English and were probably more curious about the strange foreigners yelling rather than what they actually were saying.

"Look," Japan sighed, stepping back and trying to calm himself. "I did find out something, but I promised not to tell, alright?" Germany and Italy looked at one another before Germany returned his gaze to Japan.

"Just tell us," he said.

"Yeah, Japan, whatever you found is safe with us. We're best friends after all!" Italy exclaimed. "Here!" Italy reached out and grabbed both Germany and Japan's hands and brought them together along with one of his own. He then looked to Japan with a large smile. "We promise not to tell anyone, but to help you in the best way we can!" Italy declared. "You don't have to go through it alone, _Nihon, _because Germany and I are always here to help you in a pinch because we're friends."

"Yeah. Great. Power of friendship. Just tell us what happened," Germany ordered. Despite Germany's damper on the rather touching moment, Japan smiled softly and curled his fingers into the other two nations'.

"Okay, but not here," he said, looking over his shoulders at the Lithuanians who were still staring at the awkwardly strange trio.

"Alright, lets go," Germany decided. The three hurried down a few streets until they came to an abandoned bench. They sat down abruptly, Italy in the middle. All three let out a spontaneous sigh of relief, unaware of how sore their feet were until the weight was off of them. However, Germany didn't stop to enjoy it and cut right to the chase. "Now, tell us."

"Ve, Germany, it's obviously very hard on Japan, you should be nicer," Italy scolded, wagging a finger in Germany's face.

"No, Italy-kun, it's quite alright. I'm aware that keeping anything like this from my…friends was wrong of me, but I can't help but feel I'm betraying America-kun's trust." Japan appeared horribly troubled as he looked down at his hands briefly. Germany noticed with a growing sense of pity that even after all these years, Japan still had trouble referring to he and Italy as his friends.

"Like Italy said, we won't tell anyone," Germany assured, reaching behind Italy's head between them and placing a hand on the smaller country's shoulder. "America is my friend too, so I feel I have a right to know." Japan let out a breath and righted himself.

"I pray I'm doing the right thing, but you know America-kun's boss, correct?" Japan asked.

"Yes!" Italy chirped. "Let me guess, he's a closet drag queen!"

"What?" Japan inquired incredulously, giving Italy one of the strangest looks Germany had ever seen on the Asian nation's usually stoic face. "No."

"Hermaphrodite?"

"No."

"A closet homosexual. I knew his marriage was a lie!"

"No, his wife-"

"Is really a man," Italy finished again.

"No, she's a woman," Japan corrected, but there was a flat tone in his voice that told Germany he was about to give up.

"So _he's_ really a woman! So he's a lesbian," Italy concluded, his face going dead serious. "I knew it!"

"No, he's not a woman," Japan breathed, already exasperated. "And his wife is. He's not homosexual."

"Then what is he?" Italy asked confused. "A beaver in a man suit?" Germany looked down at Italy, wondering where in the world the smart one he'd been hanging around with for the past few weeks disappear to.

"How is that even possible?" Germany found himself questioning.

"I never said it was, just wanted to know." Italy shrugged.

"No he's-"

"Really Elvis Presley in disguise!" Italy proclaimed. "I knew The King wasn't dead, or abducted by aliens!" Germany clamped a hand over Italy's mouth to stop anymore outrages theories from interrupting Japan's explanation.

"Yes, President Henry Reynolds. My Chancellor, she's very fond of him. Go ahead," Germany finally said. Japan gave him a grateful look before adverting his gaze.

"He hits America," Japan muttered. Germany threw a quick befuddled expression down at Italy before looking at Japan once more. Did he hear that correctly?

"Come again?"

"America's boss has been beating him," Japan repeated more clearly. "That bruise we thought was from Switzerland's binoculars was really from his boss shoving him into a coffee table. I've been going over there to treat his wounds. He asked me not to reveal it to anyone so that's why I've not been speaking much and I apologize." Japan still didn't look him in the eye.

"I remember you saying something about his states going missing," Germany remembered, pulling his hand away from Italy's mouth when it was apparent that the smaller country was too shocked to continue blasting ridiculousness.

"Poor America," Italy said once Germany's hand was removed. "That's so awful. Didn't Hitler do the same to you, Germany?"

"No." Germany shook his head. "He abused me in a different way, but never once did he lay a hand on me."

"Yes, America is being abused," Japan confessed, still not looking at either one of his companions directly. It was silent for awhile as Germany and Italy let the horrible news sink in. They suddenly recalled Canada's protective behavior and how the younger nation was horrified that they'd even consider America killing anyone.

"So that's why you're so sure that America is innocent," Germany concluded.

"Yes, there's no way he could be a killer with the way that…that _monster_ treats him!" Japan spat. Germany was relatively taken aback by how positively venomous Japan's usually calming voice sounded. He watched as Japan's hands curved around the edge of the bench, his knuckles white.

"You sound really upset," Italy noticed, brow furrowing in concern.

"He can't even lift a hand to defend himself!" Japan cried, still looking down at the lush grass below their feet. "He has to sit there and let that man put his hands on him! It's so childish and dishonorable! I don't understand how a boss can do that to their nation! If nothing else, a boss is supposed to love and care for their nation!" Germany leaned forward slightly to look at Japan's hunched figure.

"The thing is, bosses are only human," Germany answered. "And yes, they are supposed to love their nations, and the sad thing is, they do." Japan looked up to him, his expression not quite confused, but more disbelieving.

"How can they abuse us then?"

"Because they don't think it's wrong," Germany replied, diverting his gaze down to the grass. He found himself falling in love with Lithuania's land, so flat and fertile. "No one wants to think they're evil. Hitler loved me, I don't doubt that for a second, but he was a very sick and very twisted individual who had me thinking that slaughtering innocent men, women and children was for my own good. America's boss is the same way. He probably thinks he's disciplining America fairly, that he's keeping him from acting out."

"That's not true," Japan said. "All it's doing is scaring him. I've seen the wounds. It's disgusting." Germany leaned back against the bench and craned his neck back to stare at the bright blue sky.

"It is," he agreed. "I haven't been struck, but I've been mentally beaten to a pulp to hell and back. You can't imagine the betrayal I felt when I found out Hitler killed himself and left me to the mercy of the allies. I still remember Russia breaking my ribs by sitting on me." Germany looked down to see Italy had leaned against his shoulder and lifted a hand to pat him affectionately on the head.

"Russia's got a weight problem," Italy giggled, earning half smile from Germany.

"Germany-sama," Japan began, still staring down at the grass, fingers knotted together, "is it possible for a nation to kill a boss?"

"Well, no," Germany answered. "A nation has to listen to their boss."

"No, I'm referring to a nation killing a different nation's boss." Germany, who was previously running his fingers through Italy's hair absentmindedly, ceased and turned to Japan incredulously. Japan wasn't considering what Germany thought he was considering, right?

"Japan, what are you thinking?" Germany questioned warily. Even Italy was giving him a strange look.

"I can't let it keep going on," Japan murmured.

"Japan!" Germany barked, standing up abruptly, marching around Italy over to where Japan was sitting and taking his shoulders roughly. "Are you insane? Killing another nation's boss is like begging to go to war. Besides, your boss will never allow it. You're only supposed to use your army in self defense, but if you kill America's boss, not only will you violate that treaty, you will be provoking war with a world super power. Regardless of how America feels, he _will_ go to war with you."

"You don't see what he does to him," Japan answered. "You don't see the cuts, the bruises, the broken bones. It's sick and it has to stop." Germany growled and gave him a rough shake.

"You are way smarter than this," he reminded. "Think of your people, your own boss. You'll put them all in danger if you go through with this. America is strong and he can handle himself. You don't need to do anything risky. Besides, just remember what he did to you. What he did to your back." Japan looked up abruptly, his brown eyes narrowed and cold.

"That…was low." Germany let out a rough breath and released the other country's shoulders.

"Japan, you're my friend, and I can tell you that if you kill America's boss, you'll do him more harm then good. He'll be forced to go to war with you because his people will take it as an unprovoked attack. You won't do anything but get both him and yourself hurt."

"Not if I don't get caught." At this, Italy jumped in.

"Japan, please don't do it," he begged, reaching out and taking the nation's hand. "Germany's right, you'll only get hurt and I never want to see you hurt again. America did it once and he'll do it again. So please, please don't think about it anymore." Japan still didn't look up but nodded.

"Fine, you're right. It was only a vague thought anyhow." Germany frowned, unconvinced, but just as he was about to open his mouth to pound in the point of how stupid, foolish, crazy and dangerous the 'vague thought' was, he was interrupted by a rustling in the bushes nearby.

"Ah, it's a killer!" Italy screamed, hiding behind Germany. "Kill Germany first! I probably have family in whatever nation you are!" Japan jumped up as well and turned to face the rustling. However, they were surprised when out of the foliage, hobbled an extremely beaten up Iceland.

"Iceland!" Italy cried, rushing forward and wrapping his arms around the injured nation just before he collapsed. Germany and Japan both followed, seeing the damage for themselves. It looked as if someone had taken a blade to his neck, while his right eye was swollen shut. Crimson blood soaked the front of his uniform, while his left ankle was swollen and blue. One of his pant legs was torn off completely, his knee bloody and torn.

"T-They found each other," Iceland whimpered. "They know each other's identities. They figured it out. They're going to kill Norway. They got Denmark."

"I'll call an ambulance," Germany announced, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing his cell phone.

"Hang in there, okay?" Italy said, lowering himself to his knees so Iceland could lay down.

"They found each other," Iceland repeated, tone wild and scared. "Six of the seven found each other. We're all dead now."

* * *

America sat idly outside his house as he awaited the arrival of the other nations. A few baby carrots were in his hand as a mother rabbit tentatively nibbled on them. Her almost fully grown fluffy children huddled close to her, some reaching out to sniff the tips of America's fingers.

Apparently, Italy, Germany and Japan had found Iceland, or rather, Iceland had found them. The poor guy was beaten up and was currently laid out in a hospital with ten stitches in his neck.

The story he told was nothing short of horrific. Iceland had been tortured for hours until he finally managed to escape, hobbling all over Europe trying to find help. Somehow he managed to make his way to Lithuania's capital of Vilnius where he finally found Germany, Italy and Japan. He had given them a lot of information, and so later today, his house would be full of screaming nations.

He knew Japan was the one who requested they have the meeting at his house and sighed. With every nation in the world in his dining hall, there was no way Reynolds would hit him. He really appreciated that his friend was concerned and even angry for him, and let out a small laugh. To many who didn't know him well, Japan appeared emotionless and even a little cold, but once he considered you his friend, there was nothing he wouldn't do to keep you from being hurt.

At least he was keeping quiet about the whole Reynolds mess. Canada was on the verge of shouting it out to anyone who would listen, which was how Russia felt before he was knocked into a coma.

Russia. Ever since he tried to help Japan understand his relationship with China, he'd been thinking about the past and how he actually missed it. America first met Russia diplomatically when he was under the rule of Catherine the Great in 1780. Russia had been sane, even happy back then and he and America instantly hit it off.

They were both sort of outcasts from the rest of Europe. America had his new form of government, while Russia was neither really part of Asia, and the European nations were all afraid and or hated him. So as outcasts went, they automatically migrated to each other. Best friends. America tended to forget about that, but seeing Japan go through the same thing with China was so painfully reminiscent to what he was going through and trying to overcome with Russia.

Russia had always been there for him. When Canada burned down the White House in the War of 1812, Russia had offered to help mediate the increasing tension between America and England, so England would be free to focus completely on France, who was inching closer and closer to Russia's territory.

Of course, England had blatantly refused and he and America ended up signing the Treaty of Ghent without his assistance. Still, Russia had been the one to treat America's burns and comfort him when the reality of his own twin turning against him sunk in. The Civil War however, was when Russia definitely proved himself.

"_I believe in you, America!" _he had cheered as America wept over his people and sates tearing each other apart. The Civil War was when no one believed in him. When he felt useless and on the verge of death. He refused to take a side, feeling as if dying were preferable to killing his people, to raising a hand against the states who called him their father. Every one thought he was going to disappear and become two new nations. He himself had just started to believe it, when Russia was there.

"_I believe in you, America! You'll get through this and then we'll show France and England what you're made of together! You and me!" _

It had been everything he needed to hear. Russia had smiled and held out his hand, which America took gratefully and was helped to his feet from where he'd been crying with his knees drawn to his chest.

"_You'll make it through this. If I made it through the Mongols, you can make it through a civil war. Don't listen to them. You won't die, because we're best friends and best friends never leave each other, da?" _America had smiled at that, wiping the remaining tears out of his tired eyes.

"_Yeah, I'll get better and we'll show them. Together." _They had been standing in a field that day, hands linked and the wind blowing as if to seal their pact.

Then came the Cold War, where they used that pact against each other, hurting one another in unforgivable ways, ruining the innocent trust they had.

"_Communist bastard! You let more than half your fucking people starve! How is that sister of yours?"_

"_None of your business you filthy, capitalist, hypocritical pig!_ _Your government is based on corruption and lies, yet you question my system?" _It had hurt almost as much as when he saw Canada standing before the flames of the White House, blue eyes dull and narrowed as he glared at his crying brother, emotionless.

"_You idiot! You…It's not supposed to be like that! You may think you can take it now, but he'll break you down! He'll make you think it's right, that you deserve it! You'll…You'll end up like me!" _Russia had sobbed, just before collapsing against America's chest, fist pounding his shoulder roughly. _"His power will grow and he'll make you do bad things! He'll make you do bad things to the ones you love the most and you'll think it's okay!" _

"_You're overreacting," _America replied nervously.

"_No I'm not! Stalin made me hurt Big Sis! He hit me too like your boss! H-He made me hate you! I hated you and we were best friends! We promised to be friends forever and then…then it was ruined! It will happen to you too! America, it's not right!" _

"Hey now, slow down now, Norma Jean," America scolded the rabbit when she tried to shove two carrots in her mouth at once. "You have kids to feed, can't have you choking to death." Norma Jean paid no attention and merely continued her relentless munching. America gave a laugh and shook his head, reaching out another hand and letting his pointer finger stroke the soft fur of one of the babies.

"God, I still have a headache," he complained, reaching up and rubbing the bandages that encircled his head. He'd just say he'd tripped on one of Delaware's toys and fell down the stairs. That was believable. After all, Mr. Reynolds often liked to point out how clumsy and tactless he was.

"_America, it's not right!" _Russia had cried. America knew it wasn't right, but what could he do? Henry Reynolds was his boss, his president. America figured it was better the man hit him rather than his wife, and he had been doing good things. America wasn't sick anymore, he was banged up a bit, but that wasn't as bad as being sick with the economy blues. He learned to be more quiet and some of the nations that hated him before seemed to at least tolerate him now.

Russia's absolute horror haunted him though. The look on the usually smiling nation's face when he saw the bruises was something that kept America up at night. America knew about some of the things Stalin did to him, but he knew there was more. It was strange how relationships between nations changed. He and Russia went from best friends to hated enemies, and were just now back to distrustful acquaintances.

America didn't want Japan to feel any of it. He didn't want Japan to regret how he treated China or end up distrusting him anymore than he already did. The Cold War had been a swirl of hurt feelings and threats, something he never wanted to see one of his dearest friends go through with someone they cared about.

Suddenly, Norma Jean went rigid, and her head shot up from where she was placidly nibbling on a carrot, ears standing straight as her nose wiggled to catch the scent in the air. "What's wrong? Someone behind me?" Not two seconds later, she bolted back into the bushes, her brood struggling to keep up behind her. America turned around to see Japan standing not too far away, a rather burdened look on his face.

"Hey Japan!" America greeted, waving for the other country to come sit next to him. Japan obediently came forward, taking a seat next to America on the grassy lawn of his house.

"I'm sorry about scaring your friends away," he apologized.

"Ah, no worries, she'll be back later tonight. Kentucky has been trying to sneak her some chocolate lately so there's no way she'd stay away." America looked at Japan and saw his eyes trained on the bandages around his head. He didn't flinch away as the Asian nation lifted a hand and gently brushed his hair out of his face, then let the tips of his fingers trail over the dirty bandages.

"These are soaked with blood," he murmured.

"So, what brings you here so early?" America asked, trying to steer the conversation away from his newest wound. Japan's troubled look didn't vanish as he pulled his hand away.

"I figured I'd see how you were," the other nation answered, brows furrowing together as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a roll of gauze bandages. Somehow it made America feel terrible that Japan had reduced himself to becoming a walking first aid kit on his behalf. "I'm not too early, only about an hour before everyone else." America winced as Japan knelt behind him and began to undo the bandages he had applied himself a few nights before. "What did he do this time?" America hated the burdened and exhausted look on Japan's face and tried his luck with his story. Japan, like every other nation, had a lot going on and America didn't want to make him worry.

"Actually, I tripped on one of Delaware's toys and fell down the stairs." Japan stopped unwrapping the bandages for a split second before finishing up and taking the bloody coverings away.

"Please don't lie to me, America-kun." He sounded so hurt that America instantly felt guilty. Japan obviously wanted to help him, and he'd been amazing in doing so by not telling anyone. It wasn't right to lie to him.

"I'm sorry," America apologized, feeling Japan wrap fresh bandages around his still open wound. "He hit me over the head with a lamp a few nights ago." He heard Japan sigh behind him and watched as the other nation sat down next to him once the new bandages were in place.

"You don't have to apologize," Japan said, looking as if he desperately needed a nap.

"So, did you go see China again?" America asked, trying to find a safe topic that didn't involve his boss.

"No," Japan replied. "I haven't gotten the chance, and he couldn't answer any of my questions so I don't know much about the killer who was stalking him." America wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulder.

"Don't worry, he'll get better, I'm sure. Just remember to make sure he knows you care about him," America reminded.

"Again, thank you for sharing your friendship with Russia. It helped me…be more patient with China if nothing else." America noticed the tired dark circles under Japan's eyes and the way he ever so slightly leaned against him for support.

"You look beat," America commented. Japan looked up at him and gave a smile.

"And feel, but I'll have time for rest later. There's a lot to discuss. Iceland's attack gave us a lot of insight to narrowing down our suspects." America looked away briefly before seeing one of Norma Jean's babies ever so cautiously poke its head out from the foliage of a nearby bush. America instantly pulled Japan closer and pointed to the little animal.

"Look Japan, one of Norma Jean's babies!" Japan gave him a confused look before following America's finger and seeing the little rabbit for himself.

"Oh, well, look at that." America instantly grabbed Japan's wrist and placed a carrot in his hand before holding it forward to the timid little creature. Japan blinked a few times in surprise, his face reddening at the unexpected contact.

"Stay really still," America whispered. "She'll come to you soon." The little rabbit wiggled her nose for a moment before cautiously inching away from the cover of the bush. "Her mom was hogging all the carrots so she's probably hungry. They stopped nursing off of her a few days ago." The rabbit stopped inches away from Japan's outstretched hand and stretched her neck out to sniff at the carrot.

"What's her name?" Japan questioned, smiling as the rabbit placed her little paws on his hands in order to reach the carrot.

"She doesn't have one," America answered, turning to look at Japan who's weary expression was now a fond smile. He liked it much better. Japan appeared much younger and more carefree when he smiled, his glossy black hair framing his perfectly round face. America ever so slowly released Japan's wrist and scooted away a little so he could see the scene play out. "Why don't you give her a name?" Japan's smile faded and he turned away from the rabbit to look at him.

"Me?"

"Of course, she obviously has taken a liking to you, so therefore you should be the one to give her a name," America reasoned.

"Oh," Japan murmured, looking back down at the little furry creature now eating out of his hand as if it were a food dish.

"Well, she has a little star patch on her chest, so why not name her _Hoshi," _Japan said. "It means 'star' in my language."

"Hoshi," America tested, rolling his eyes up as if to ponder it, then allowing himself to grin. "I like it. Hoshi it is." After she finished the carrot, Hoshi looked up curiously at Japan before turning tail and fleeing back into the brush. America scooted back over to Japan and placed a hand on the smaller nation's shoulder. "We better get inside before everybody shows up."

"Of course," Japan replied, getting to his knees before standing up. "America-kun, I've been thinking, and I just want you to know that…" America stood up as well and met his eyes, causing Japan's voice to falter. Japan's expression quickly became guilty and he looked away. "I hope you and Russia-san can be friends again," he finished, obviously covering up what he meant to say. America, not catching it, merely gave a gentle smile then stretched a little.

"Thanks, and who knows, maybe one day we can all be friends," he said, turning around and heading towards the house.

"Maybe," Japan whispered, slowly following after him.

* * *

"That's preposterous!" England declared, rising from his chair.

"You're preposterous!" France snapped back from his wheelchair.

"Who's been pushing your sorry ass around lately?" England demanded. "And bandaging your silly head?"

Japan merely rubbed his temples, wearily looking to the head of the table where America sat watching the entire display with nothing short of amusement on his face. The meeting had started off rather civil, they even managed to get out that there were exactly seven killers on the loose, then England complained for what seemed like the thousandth time about how France needed to lose a few pounds, then they started fighting, and just like a horrible, incurable, disease all the other nations started fighting, and then it became hell.

An unorganized, migraine-inducing hell.

Germany had long since lost the will to live and was splayed out across the table, Italy poking him every so often to try and ignore the eight seats that were empty.

"You guys should just get hitched!" America snickered.

"Please, I could do so much better than this little, bushy-browed, gremlin I've allowed to tend to my needs!" France declared.

"And I could do better than a snot-nosed, effeminate, prat with a plant fetish!" England snarled back.

"Hey, let's not get into it!" Canada cried as England and France began to glare into each other's eyes with enough fury to melt a glacier. "This is not good for my development!" Japan could practically see the lighting bolts connecting them both.

"Seychelles, the pen is mine!" Sealand yelled as he and the island nation began to tussle over the writing utensil.

"So, you said if I won at tick tack toe, I'd get it!" Seychelles cried back, withdrawing a fish out of literally nowhere, and slapping Sealand with it. It let out a sickeningly wet plop as it ghosted down the young boy's face, dead beady eye staring disturbingly from the side of its head.

"Ouch, Finland!" he wailed, still not letting go of the pen, but now dripping with slime. "Tell her to let go!" Finland merely gave a small laugh and turned in his chair away from Sweden to give the young boy a weak smile.

"You did have a deal," Finland pointed out.

"Deals sh'ld b' h'nered," Sweden added without even turning around.

"Yeah! So hand it over!" Seychelles demanded, raising the fish again for another blow, only to have it slip out of her grasp and fly backwards, hitting Canada square in the face just as he opened his mouth to try and stop England and France from literally going for each other's throats.

"God, you never help me with my problems!" Sealand cried, then he turned to where England and France were still having their loathing contest. "And my stupid brother is absolutely _useless!" _England whirled away from France at this to glare at the smallest nation.

"All you do is whine!" he yelled. "Whine, moan, and complain! And I'm not use--France get your hand off my rump this instant!"

"Okay, now that's not good for _my _development!" America yelled, helping Canada wipe the fish slime off of his face using his own shirt.

Japan let out another sigh.

"Ah, another world meeting," a voice next to him stated. Japan turned to find Greece watching the other nations' antics with mild curiosity. He noticed Japan staring at him and smiled. "So, how have you been?"

"Better," Japan answered.

"Yeah, I'm sure we all have," he agreed, laying back in his chair lazily. "So, I heard you and America are going to have a wedding soon." Japan felt his face pale, nearly chocking on his own saliva. Greece noticed and gave a good hearted chuckle. "Korea told me." Japan whipped around in his seat and sure enough, from his spot down the table, Korea was grinning at him, giving the thumbs up.

"What are you doing?" Japan mouthed.

"Taking your advice and expanding my family!" Korea mouthed back.

"Let me guess, he sent you over here to offer your blessings," Japan muttered, turning back around to face Greece.

"Something like that," he laughed. "But I can tell by your reaction that your brother kind of jumped to conclusions."

"America and I have been having a lot of meetings lately, so my family takes this as a sign I'm in love."

"It'd be wonderful if you were," Greece offered. "America seems like a good fellow." Japan let his forehead meet the tabletop with a loud, _thunk. _

"I don't even know anymore," he groaned.

"Did you try sleeping with him?"

"No, Greece-san, I haven't tried sleeping with him," Japan muttered.

"You should, it might help you put your feelings into perspective," he offered. Japan looked up to watch as America patted Canada on the head tenderly, the same huge grin on his face.

"America's not like that," he sighed. Greece gave him an understanding look, a few strands of brown hair falling in his face. A long time ago, Japan might have reached up to brush those strands to the side, but that was a long time ago for a reason.

"You know, I find sex to be more enjoyable when I do it with someone who I truly care about," he began. "I've only cared about a handful of people I've slept with, you being one of them." Japan felt embarrassment rise, but didn't look away. Greece wasn't the same as America, and it wasn't uncomfortable or awkward to look at him directly. Still, that last comment was a bit too far, even if it was true.

"So?" Japan pressed, trying to find a point.

"So go sleep with him," Greece encouraged. "It's obvious you care about him, so I think you should enjoy that feeling more. You deserve it, after all." Japan stole a quick glance at America again, feeling the pit of his stomach burn.

"Is this your way of giving your permission?" Japan inquired, still not taking his eyes off America who was having a good natured argument with England. Well, it was good natured on his end anyway, England looked like he was about to pounce on top of him and rip his throat out with his teeth. Greece gave another laugh, patting Japan on the shoulder.

"Is this why you haven't been with anyone else besides me? You've been waiting for me to give you permission to move on?" Japan turned to him again.

"No," he answered shortly. "I just haven't found anyone, that's all."

"Alright, alright," Greece said, his expression returning to its usual thoughtful one. "Well, from where I'm sitting, you might have found someone now."

"Seychelles!" Sealand yelled as island nation threw the obviously valuable pen over his head. It clattered onto the table right in front of America who had sat down only a moment ago to console Canada.

"I'll get it first!" Sealand hollered, scrambling on top of the table by stepping on Austria's vital regions and earning a swipe of Hungary's frying pan. Sealand ducked the kitchen utensil and began running to where the pen lay. Japan watched with an incredibly bored expression as Sealand began his majestic run, the kind of run a movie would play in slow motion.

However, right as he got to the pen, Seychelles made her way on top of the table, via stepping on Prussia's vital regions and earning a 'so fucking not awesome' and a death glare from the chick sitting on top of his head. (Japan assumed it was Zwölf, but to him all chicks looked the same so it didn't matter) Once there, she promptly shoved the smaller boy away, and snatched up the pen, narrowly missing America's face with her fisted hand.

In less then a split second, America promptly shot out of his chair and threw both hands out in front of himself, knocking a very surprised and horrified Seychelles off her feet and sending her down the elongated table screaming. She crashed into Poland who was sitting at the very end, and both nations went tumbling backwards in his chair, Poland letting out a undignified shriek.

"Seychelles!" France wailed, automatically trying to stand from his chair, only to be held down by England. "America, why did you do that?"

"Like, what the hell is wrong with you!?" Poland shouted, appearing over the edge of the table along with a flustered, but relatively unharmed Seychelles. Germany lifted his head at the commotion and he and all the other nations looked to the head of the table in horror. Japan, although at first shocked, quickly became both frightened and saddened.

America was still standing, only his eyes were as wide as saucers and he was trembling, despite his entire body being rigid. He looked absolutely terrified, as if Seychelles had been a ghost. After usefully restraining France, England looked up again to glare at America.

"What the bloody hell has gotten into you?" he demanded, taking a swift step forward. Upon his advancement, America let out the most horrible agonized scream Japan had ever heard. He backed away from England stiffly, arms held out in front of him as if the other country were about to strike him.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled, frightened tears starting to fall. He began shaking his head, scared whimpers coming from his throat. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I won't do it again! I'm sorry!"

"America," Canada said, his tone shocked. America backed up until he reached the wall behind him, where he fell to his knees, cradling his head in his hands as he trembled and cried.

"Ugh, he pissed himself!" the disgusted voice of Cuba announced.

"Cuba, please don't start," a low voice quietly warned. Japan tore his gaze away from America in time to see a very dangerous looking Canada. His eyes had narrowed into little slits of ice blue and he seemed taller than normal. All the nations stared at him with a mix of fascination and surprise. Canada and Cuba were close friends, but Canada was looking at Cuba as if he were an enemy.

"Sorry," Cuba offered. Canada didn't relax, but he turned away.

"Alfred." Japan returned his attention to England who inched forward cautiously. His expression was half scared and half agonized. America didn't look up at the sound of his name and merely continued shivering, holding his head.

"I'm sorry, don't hurt me! I'm sorry!" England knelt to the ground and pulled America into an embrace. America struggled briefly, letting out another scream, but England grabbed his wrists as he flailed momentarily. "No, don't! Please no more!" America collapsed against England's chest, sobbing and trembling. Once it was clear America wasn't going to endanger himself or anyone else, England released his wrists to wrap his arms around America's shoulders. America flinched and tensed, but relaxed and curled his fingers in the back of England's uniform as soon as the other nation began stroking the back of his head.

"Shh," he murmured, rocking back and forth. "God, what have they done to you?" It was silent for a moment before England directed the rest of the nations. "All of you leave. We'll reschedule this for another day."

"Come on," Greece said, helping Japan up. Japan couldn't take his eyes off America, however as he was numbly led away.

This had to stop. He watched as Canada also wrapped his arms around his sobbing twin, burying his face in America's shoulder. Now, Japan knew what to do. His heart beat painfully in his chest, his deepining feelings for the other nation demanding him to take a stand. America was losing it and Japan had to save him. He couldn't let America lose his mind or be hurt for much longer. As he let Greece take him out the door, he knew what had to be done, he just needed someone else's approval before he started.

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Hey look at that, the chapter is over! I really wanted to squeeze in one more scene, but it was waaay to long already. Thank you all for your support on this monster of a story and although I'm sure my writing has made a few of your eyes bleed, I'm glad the plot is interesting enough to keep you interested. Lucky is still away in China, but she will return so you guys don't have to sift through my mumblings of crap for much longer :D

I recently did a research paper and was surprised to find that America and Russia actually used to be very close and were on the verge of forming a military alliance at one point under President Grant. It was remarkable, but alas all friendships come to an end I suppose.

Ten points to whoever guesses who the rabbit is named after.

Anyhoodles, shout outs:

**Verocat** (Our angel when it comes to Russian translation), **Plumville Amy, LightBender, AnimeDutchess, mankinfan, Victoria Wan, devsHaruhi-x, Furi, spocketlaine, Thorro, RingoNeko 201, Penumbra9, greenpanic6, , KaruKyan, usagi-ninja, dragoneian, koholint, EmoLollipop, Lone Kunoichi, Compleatly Random Dissorder, VIITheChariot, Rinael, Kara2992, ninjafox369, marmoki, SparkleMuffin, Kyra213, mankinfan, KokoroAngel, xYukii, bookworm, Snowflake-Ever-Falling, Sweet Little Pirana, Lochesh, happinessxandxrainbows, WOKgeotobi, Albinokitten, luvjOi, randomlvr1** (our review angel), **I Brake For Bishounen Boys, Miss Chelle, mangarox14, Necromancer Staff**, and

**Cry-Wolf-And-Sing**


	18. Angelmakers of Nagyrev

Hey peeps! Next chapter here that strangely turned out longer than I thought it would. Who knew Japan had to think so much to come to a decision? Oh, and the poll is up on our profile about what you all thought about Nussia. This one I really want to know what you guys think so vote away!

**Disclaimer: **Hetalia is not owned by us. (At this point we've run out of witty comments so shoot us)

* * *

Japan silently made his way through the crowded streets of Hanoi, making sure his uniform was crisp as usual, and staying out of the way of the traveling bicyclers. Merchants and street vendors shouted as tourists and residents alike weaved through one another on the cobbled sidewalks. The subtropical air was humid along with the hustle and bustle of the city, and Japan felt a thin sheet of sweat form on his brow.

Although Vietnam was busy with trying to calm growing panic in some of her more agricultural areas, the capital remained relatively peaceful. He hurried by an arguing couple and ducked as someone tossed a newly purchased fruit at someone else. Okay, perhaps _peaceful _wasn't the right word to describe Hanoi, but it was its usual busy and crowded self.

Japan couldn't help but feel slightly nervous as he finally got off the main street and made it to Vietnam's house. He hadn't seen his sister in awhile, and unlike Taiwan, she wasn't as kind-hearted and forgiving. However, this didn't mean she'd automatically jump down his throat either. Vietnam could only be described a seesaw, able to tip either way depending on which side had more weight, and since he had come to talk about America, he was sure the seesaw was going to tip opposite of his favor.

Japan also felt a bit guilty about leaving Greece with a lame excuse about needing to check on China again. Korea had been searching for him after America's mental meltdown and he didn't want to be caught between them. Greece of course didn't believe him, but didn't press him for the true answer either. He knew firsthand how strained Japan and China's relationship was, but also respected Japan's privacy.

Upon walking out of America's house, he managed to avoid Germany and Italy. He had already known they'd both blow a gasket once he presented the idea of killing America's boss to them. For some reason, he wasn't entirely aware he was actually considering it, but his legs had moved on their own and his fingers dialed the airport number to book a flight, completely independent from his conscious train of thought.

It was just something inside of him had snapped. Seeing America crying and terrified had cemented the last brick in his decision to go through with this crazy idea. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to do it, or if he was really going to, but he had to talk to Vietnam--that much he knew both subconsciously and consciously.

Part of him hoped she'd slap some sense into him, because despite how much he cared for America, the last thing he wanted was to put his people through another world war. Yet, that look on America's face was enough to send the subtle, but venomous bursts of rage throughout him.

America wasn't supposed to look so frightened and small. Japan was tired of seeing it. He was tired of seeing new injuries on America's chest and back whenever he came to visit. It had to stop. Nations weren't meant to be their boss's punching bags.

However, despite the fact he and America were friends and cared for one another, Japan realized that on a deep emotional scale, he knew next to nothing about the other nation. That was why he needed to talk to Vietnam, the one country he knew understood America better than anyone.

He had to see if it was worth it, that his rage wasn't misplaced. Japan wasn't one to run headlong into big decisions, and regardless of how he felt about America, he wasn't about to start now, especially when he was putting his own people at risk.

He walked past the front gate of Vietnam's estate and stopped to look at a medium-sized koi pond with blooming lily pads floating placidly on the surface. Japan recalled how he helped Vietnam construct it and had given the inhabitants as a gift.

The fish below the surface towed lazily around like orange and black submarines. Japan stopped and watched them for a moment, a bit envious of their lack of responsibility. They were just dumb animals, swimming about in their little body of water, ignorant of the big world outside and unburdened with the task of caring. Koi were simple creatures, their purpose simple: swim, eat and serve as a decoration.

"Japan, what are you doing here?" Japan jumped and gave a squeak as he nearly fell face first into the very pond he was looking into. Once he regained his balance, he turned around to find his sister smiling at him, head tilted slightly to the left in curiosity.

"Oh, Vietnam-chan, you surprised me," Japan breathed, placing a hand over his rapidly beating heart.

"Really? I'm the one who's surprised to see you," she replied, still smiling. "So, what can I contribute this unexpected visit to?" Japan took a deep breath and glanced down at his feet uncomfortably.

"I…" he trailed off to gulp. "I actually need to ask your advice."

"Oh, well would you like to walk or come inside? I just came out to tend to my garden when I saw you standing here." Japan thought about it, and decided he'd rather walk. He'd been sitting on a plane for hours on end, and worst of all, had to take a taxi through most of Hanoi to get here.

"Walk, please," he said. Vietnam merely dipped her head and gestured for him to follow. Japan hurried to her side and studied her briefly. She was just as beautiful as ever, with her long black hair tied back in a glossy ponytail while the rest hung in her elegantly sculpted face. She could have been China's twin sister, for there was the same mystical air about her and a kind of unreal beauty.

Japan started to feel strangely uneasy looking at her as they made it out of the gate, and turned down the sidewalk. She and America had been something. Not exactly lovers, but defiantly more than just enemies. What if America did have something left for her? Japan remembered the dark look on the other nation's face when he brought up Vietnam shortly before Taiwan called about China's hospitalization.

He was contemplating risking his life and the life of his people so America wouldn't be hurt anymore. If there was no chance America might return these feelings was there even a point in doing something so dangerous? Was it wrong to do nothing just because America might still harbor some feelings for Vietnam? Was there a dark side to America he didn't know? That was why he was here, to find out.

"This is my favorite place in all of Hanoi." Vietnam's voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he blinked, noticing that they were on an elegant red bridge that stretched to a beautiful gray and white temple framed by lush green plants. There were a few tourists excitedly taking pictures, but other than that, the bridge was relatively empty and Japan and Vietnam were left to themselves.

"The Huc Bridge, huh?" Japan questioned as Vietnam made her way to the cross-hatched railing and looked down at the Hoan Kiem Lake below it. Japan followed her, letting his arms rest on the railing.

"Yes," she answered, looking over at the elegant temple on the other side. "I love the way Ngoc Son Temple looks from here." She turned her head to face him again. "So, how's China? I'd go see for myself, but things are getting hectic around here with these nation-killers."

"He's not good," Japan sighed, letting his chin rest on his folded arms. A breeze gusted through the surrounding trees and plants, stirring up ripples in the lake below. "He's in some sort of emotional coma. The doctors say that it's common for people to just shut down after traumatic events, and I guess being stabbed and having what's left of your lover bludgeoned to death counts as a traumatic event."

"I heard about the boy, Nussia. I heard when Taiwan and Hong Kong found him there was hardly anything left of his head."

"That's the truth," Japan murmured, lifting his head slightly so he wasn't staring down at the lake, but out across it. "Apparently Russia had major bleeding after Nussia was killed, but they managed to stop it."

"When did you find this out?"

"Taiwan apparently ran into Ukraine at the hospital while she was visiting China. She told me just before the World Meeting that you missed a good eight hours ago."

"Like I said, there's a lot going on here and I couldn't book a flight to leave." As Japan turned to look at her, he noticed she had bowed her head so her bangs blocked her eyes from sight.

"It wasn't because it was at America's house was it?" he ventured. At this Vietnam merely tilted her head back and laughed. She held onto the railing and leaned until she was looking up at the sky, her pale yellow conical hat hanging behind her like a large tree ornament.

"Come on, Japan, you know me better than that," she chuckled. "I don't let petty things like that dictate where I go."

"Well, that's good," Japan said. Vietnam stood back up and gazed at him briefly. Japan thought of what America said the night Taiwan called and cleared his throat. Perhaps a token of goodwill would soften her.

"America-san, says he wishes you luck with your riots." He decided to use the more formal honorific in order to appear less attached to America than he really was.

"Did he now?" There was a bitter smile on her face and she attempted to change the subject. "Aren't you tired from all the jet lag?"

"Not really," he lied, deciding to let her get away with it. "There's a lot I need to do and I can't rest until they're complete."

"I see," Vietnam voiced. "You need advice. About what exactly?" Japan glanced away from his sister to look down at the lake below them once more. He saw their reflections staring back up at them from the glassy surface of the water: brown eyes framed by straight black hair on identically round, yet delicate faces. Time to bring the subject back.

"Actually, it's about America," he ventured tentatively.

"Yeah, you're marrying him, aren't you?" she asked, her tone restrained as she seemed to resign herself to discussing the personally unpleasant topic. At this point, Japan rolled his eyes in exasperation and groaned, pushing off the railing and walking towards the other side, pinching the bridge of his nose. Vietnam gave him a strange look, lifting an eyebrow curiously. "Well, aren't you? I was--"

"Told by Korea, I know," Japan finished.

"So, when is it?" Vietnam asked, voice guarded and controlled. This wasn't going as well as he thought.

"There isn't going to be a wedding," Japan stated. "America and I have been meeting a lot so Korea and Taiwan automatically jumped to the conclusion that I was going to propose to him." Upon looking into Vietnam's eyes, he saw a flash of what he thought was relief, but felt his stomach sink as they hardened and she frowned.

"So, if you're not marrying him, why do you need advice about him? And what were these so-called meetings about?" Japan studied his sister again, unsurprised at how perceptive she was. He knew he needed to tell her if he really wanted an honest answer, but he already felt terrible about spilling the beans to Germany and Italy. Still, Vietnam was his family. He could trust her with a secret. After all, she wasn't Taiwan or Korea, who could barely keep their mouths shut about what they'd gotten everyone for Christmas.

"Will you promise not to tell anyone, and I mean _anyone?" _he questioned, giving his sister a serious look. Vietnam tilted her head slightly, but her eyes were certain.

"For you, of course," she promised. "Your secret is safe with me." Japan let his fingers run through his hair before stepping back to the railing of the bridge. He looked about to make sure no tourists or anyone else were watching, then leaned in close.

"America's boss has been beating him." Vietnam's eyes widened slightly.

"No."

"Yes, I've been going over there to treat the wounds, and they get worse every time I go back." Vietnam turned away from the lake and let her back lean against the railing, her expression horrified.

"You have to be joking. I mean, Nixon forced him to keep fighting me when it was clear he was mentally shot, but I never thought…" she trailed off.

"I wouldn't joke about something like this," Japan said gravely, staring blankly at the Ngoc Son Temple but not really seeing it. "Henry Reynolds is a monster of a man. He's won the support of over half of America's people and he uses that to make America do as he wishes."

"So, what advice are you looking for?" Vietnam asked, hiding her previous horror with a blank expression.

"Now, please hear me out on this because I'm aware it's not only risky but incredibly foolish," Japan began, pausing to make sure Vietnam was paying attention. She watched him carefully, completely serious. He begged she'd listen unlike Germany and Italy, and wet his lips nervously before continuing. "I want to kill his boss." Vietnam stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. So far the seesaw was still balanced, though her reaction was going to show which side the weight had landed on.

What he just said was either going to come across as completely idiotic, completely insane or some combination of the two, and Vietnam was either going to lose her cool or possibly check him into a mental health hospital.

However, she surprised him yet again by saying,

"It's that bad, huh?" Japan had to gasp quietly in surprise.

"You mean, you agree with me?" he asked incredulously.

"Now don't pull a Korea and jump to conclusions," she ordered, holding up a finger as if to tell him to hold on a second. "I just know it takes a lot to get you upset. If it's so bad that you want to kill America's boss, it's obvious the abuse has gotten out of hand."

"It has," Japan agreed. "At the World Meeting he had a complete mental breakdown in front of everyone and could have seriously injured someone." Vietnam noticeably flinched, hissing through her teeth quietly.

"He didn't though, did he?" she inquired softly.

"No, he didn't," Japan assured. "Seychelles and Sealand were fighting over a pen and it fell in front of him. Seychelles picked it up and almost hit him in the face and that set him off." Vietnam closed her eyes and let her face rest in her palms.

"Did anything else happen?" she asked, not lifting her head.

"He stood up and shoved Seychelles away then started screaming. Other than that, no," Japan finished. "You should have seen the look on his face, Vietnam." He didn't bother with an honorific, averting his gaze to the boards of the bridge beneath his feet. "He was so…_scared_. And his screams…I…I've heard many screams in my life, but his was just…it was like he wasn't even seeing anyone. He looked so alone and just…so scared he was going to be hurt."

He had seen that look before on so many other faces before, most of which he caused. Japan tried to forget those faces, those eyes widened in terror, but seeing America like that…it was a painful reminder. Was that why he wanted to kill Reynolds? Because he put that horrible expression on America's face and it reminded Japan of all the horrible things he had done? It didn't matter, because Japan would give anything possible to never have America look like that again.

"So you want my advice on how to kill his boss?" Vietnam guessed.

"No," Japan corrected. "I want your advice on whether or not I _should."_ Vietnam let out a rush of air and stood up straight. She was silent for a moment, her brown eyes far off as she seemed to contemplate what her brother was asking.

"Um, Vietnam-chan?" Japan prompted after a moment of pregnant silence. He waved a hand in her face cautiously and she blinked, turning her full attention back to him.

"I want to take you somewhere," she finally said, grabbing his wrist and leading him back to her house. Japan had a hard time keeping up with her as she chose to take the main street and he was once again dodging around tourists and others alike, all the while trying to make sure no one ran into the arm Vietnam had in her iron grasp. He stumbled a few times, but was relieved when they finally made it back to her house.

Yet, he was surprised when Vietnam didn't take him inside as expected, but ran to the small white car parked out front. "Get in," she commanded, wrenching the door open and getting into the driver's side.

"W-Wait, we're driving there?" Japan asked incredulously, looking over his shoulder at what he knew to be the congested streets of Vietnam's capital. "Wouldn't it be easier if we bicycled?"

"It's too far away for that, kiddo." She slammed the door and buckled her seat belt, both hands on the wheel as she looked at him expectantly. "You want my advice, so I'm giving it to you, but I need you to see this place before you make a decision." Japan stared back at her, unsure.

"How far away is it?"

"Good few hours."

"Won't it take a few hours just to get out of Hanoi?" Vietnam laughed again, a large grin which scarily reminded him of Korea's appearing on her usually tranquil face.

"Not with the way I drive." Okay, that didn't sound good. Still, it couldn't be worse than when he had sat in the passenger seat while Italy drove. It was that little incident that made him pursue building safer cars. He recalled careening down the streets, screaming at the top of his lungs as Italy pressed the gas pedal to the floor, making sharp turns and nearly hitting a few pedestrians on the way. It ended with Japan huddled in a fetal position in the backseat trembling. Surely Vietnam wasn't _that_ bad. Reassuring himself, he slid in next to her and buckled his own seat belt.

How very wrong he was, for as soon as he shut the door, Vietnam threw the car in reverse and sped through the front gates before cutting the wheel sharply to the right and turning around. Japan's hands were instantly on the ceiling as Vietnam bore down on the gas, sending the small car roaring down the street like some ferocious beast.

"Not again," Japan whimpered, as Vietnam tore down another alleyway and came out on one of the more crowded streets.

"Hold on, Japan, it's going to get a little bumpy!" Vietnam yelled, her eyes flashing with excitement.

"You know, we're not being chased by anyone!" he cried, fingers now curling into the armrests of his seat and eyes wide with unspoken terror. "You don't have to pull any crazy--_oh my God!" _An elderly man toting a cart of chickens was forced to abandon them and leap out of the way as the car hit the cart dead on, a few of the unlucky birds slamming into the windshield and leaving clumps of feathers sticking to the glass.

"Damn birds," Vietnam muttered, turning on the windshield wipers.

"Are you insane?" Japan demanded. "You could have killed him!" Japan tried to look out the window to see what had become of the poor old man, but was jolted to the right as Vietnam swerved onto another street, this time dodging around a bus. The driver practically pounded his fist through the horn as Vietnam passed.

"They're fine!" Vietnam insisted, her face bright with a large and slightly evil smile. "I hardly ever get to drive!"

"I can see why!" Japan let out another scream as Vietnam plowed through another alleyway, nearly hitting a few tourists who were chatting with the local residents. Japan was gripping the armrests so tightly he feared his knuckles would simply explode out of the top of his hands. "Where exactly are we going?"

"You'll see! We have to get out of Hanoi as fast as possible though if we want to make it there by dusk!" Vietnam's voice was light and happy, as if this was the most fun she had in centuries. A few of her people were yelling, running in terror as their nation plowed down the street with little regards to traffic. A few other rental cars were forced to swerve out of the way as she drove on the wrong side of the road momentarily to speed down another alley, hitting a few clotheslines as she went.

"How are we not getting pulled over?" Japan asked in a small frightened squeak of a voice.

"Because I've got skill!" Vietnam declared, pressing down on the gas even further. She swerved again and Japan felt his stomach tie itself in a knot. This was _worse_ than Italy's driving and Japan found himself praying to any deity that existed that they wouldn't crash and die in fiery inferno of twisted metal.

"Vietnam-chan, you're getting awfully close to the left side of the road!" Japan warned. There was the sound of the radio being adjusted, different voices fluttering from one topic to another as the channels were changed. "Vietnam-chan?" Japan stiffly turned around and gave another shriek when he saw that Vietnam had completely taken her eyes off the road and her hands off the wheel in order to play with the dials.

"Come on, play a good song," she growled. Japan's mouth fell open to his chest and he took a second to glance out the windshield, seeing a woman and her two children crossing further up the street.

"Vietnam!" he screamed, lunging across his seat in order to grab the unmanned wheel.

"Hold on, I'm trying to find my station!" Japan yanked the wheel towards himself in order to miss the small family now cowering in fear. The poor mother had even gone so far as to block her children with her body. He managed to swerve around them and an oncoming bus, his hands slick with sweat.

"What is wrong with you?" Japan hollered, teeth clenched and eyes wide as he continued to yank on the wheel, heart pounding fear-induced adrenaline throughout his body.

"Ha, I found it!" Vietnam cheered, sitting up again, and shoving Japan back into his seat. "Alright, now we're ready for this monster of a trip."

"I think I'm going to puke," Japan whimpered.

"Just make sure you do it out the window," Vietnam ordered.

"And be decapitated? No thanks," he hissed, now seemingly plastered to his seat, one hand pressing against the ceiling, the other tight as a boa constrictor around the armrest. They made their way through the capital in what Japan assumed was record speed. Vietnam hitting a few more carts and nearly running down a young couple clearly in love (Japan had a feeling she pulled this particular stunt just to be cruel, but was too busy praying to call her out) before finally making out onto the less crowded streets outside Hanoi.

"You nearly got us killed," Japan stated, his voice rather hoarse from all his screaming.

"Italy's right, you need to loosen up a little, bro," she teased. "Besides, we need to go fast to get there as soon as possible."

"Fair enough," he sighed, allowing himself to relax enough to reach out and turn off the radio, which was playing the a song preformed by a shrill-voiced woman who was quickly giving him a headache.

"Hey, I liked that song," Vietnam complained. "Besides, where we're going, it'll fade out anyway."

"I don't care. Please, let's just get there. Preferably alive."

"But I want to listen to music," Vietnam argued.

"I don't care," Japan repeated, letting his head rest against the back of the seat, closing his eyes wearily. He felt Vietnam's glare on him, and without looking at her said, "Please keep your eyes on the road."

"Well, then you drive!" Vietnam snapped. Japan opened his eyes again and felt a fresh jolt of terror rip through his chest when he saw his sister had taken her hands off the wheel yet again and had turned away from it, arms crossed and nose stuck up like an angry child.

"Vietnam!" he yelled again fearfully, lunging across his own seat once more to grasp the wheel. "What's wrong with you? Do you have a death wish?" Vietnam opened her eyes at this and gave him a dark look.

"You wanted my advice, so I'm going out of my way to give it to you," she answered, then she grinned again. "Plus I want to listen to music! The drive is incredibly long."

"Just take the wheel, woman!" Japan yelled.

"Music?"

"Yes! Fine! Listen to whatever you want! I don't care! Just drive!" Without hesitation, Vietnam turned the radio back on, and the shrill-voiced woman was once again serenading the two nations. Vietnam then took the wheel, and Japan slumped back in his seat, feeling as if he had survived another war. He closed his eyes and took a soothing breath to clear his thoughts.

"You should try to sleep," Vietnam said. Japan simply nodded, his throat still raw from all the screaming. "I'll let you know when we get there."

"Thanks," he murmured tiredly. Unsurprisingly, rest came easy. Even with the loud woman belting out foreign lyrics all around him, her high tone suddenly became a soothing lullaby. He had been aware of how utterly exhausted he was, yet it was even more apparent when his mind slipped into blackness with no resistance whatsoever.

There were no dreams, just soothing black to which he lovingly curled into. It was wonderful and it felt as if he had only been there for a few moments when he felt Vietnam tap him on the shoulder. He almost childishly asked to have five more minutes, but remembered who he was and regretfully opened his eyes. He found the side of his face pressed against the car door, his neck sore from the awkward position. The woman had long since stopped her song and he was grateful as he popped his neck back into place.

"We're here," Vietnam said, her voice solemn. It was as if the entire universe had shifted, and he knew his sister was someone completely different from the one who nearly committed vehicular manslaughter those hours ago.

Japan stretched a little and yawned, realizing that it was getting dark out. Vietnam didn't wait for him, unbuckled her seatbelt and got out. Japan did the same, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Once he was out of the car, he stretched his sore legs and looked about his surroundings.

They were in a parking lot, but other than that, Japan wasn't too keen on observations, so he simply followed his sister, trying to shake himself fully awake. If anything, the nap made him feel even more groggy than when he went to sleep. He yawned a bit, but Vietnam gave no indication she heard him and kept walking. However, Japan did manage to see they were on a path bordered by very beautifully trimmed hedges. In the distance he also spotted the front gate to wherever they were along with a large building that was obviously closed for the night.

However, Vietnam turned to the left of the building that led off into different trails. Japan followed her closely, now fully awake and taking in his surroundings with all the energy of a newly born colt. A few stone and metal markers dotted the sides of the path, but it was too dark to read them, plus Vietnam clearly had no intention of stopping. He simply tried to keep up, feeling his heart pound in his ears when he saw a replica of a burnt building along with a few fake slaughtered animals.

He noticed the concrete path below their feet was dented with footprints, some of which were stomped out by larger booted ones. It was as if there had been a stampede. The sky above them rumbled a bit, but Japan paid no attention. He found he wanted to say something, but his voice abandoned him as they passed another marker shaped like a large white tombstone.

_Mass graves of 9 people killed by US soldiers in the massacre on March 16__th__, 1968_

Below that were the nine names of the victims. He was able to read the English as they passed, and his now awake and widened eyes trained on his sister's face. She kept her gaze forward, though her mouth was a taunt line.

After a seemingly endless stretch of heavy silence and walking, they came to a gray cobbled path on an emerald lawn, and Japan felt his throat tighten as he spotted a familiar white statue standing tall before an elongated hut. To the right was a rice paddy with a few tall palm trees, but it was the statue that made Japan's heart beat with realization.

The statue consisted of a woman standing tall with her right fist in the air, holding a limp infant in her left arm. By her feet, another woman cradled a man in her arms, while a little ways behind the standing woman, another person knelt over the man's feet. All of them stood together on a raised platform with two steps leading up to another plaque he didn't bother to read.

"My Lai," Japan murmured as they approached the memorial.

"Welcome to the Son My Vestige Area and the My Lai Memorial," Vietnam announced softly, stopping once they came to the first step. Japan was rendered speechless and stared up at the memorial. There was another distant rumble, but it was just an echo in the back of Japan's mind. "It's usually closed for the night, but I figured they'd let their nation in."

"Why did you bring me here?" Japan asked. He heard of the massacre, when America had slaughtered hundreds of innocent civilians, most of which were old men, women and children. Japan heard of the atrocities committed here from Vietnam herself. How could he have forgotten?

He recalled some of the horror stories, of women and young girls gang raped and babies thrown up in the air and used as target practice. Of course America had another side, all nations did. Was this what Vietnam was trying to tell him?

Yet, he thought of America's smiling face, his happy-go-lucky attitude that was borderline annoying. Even being here didn't stop the feelings that came attached to the images, but now he was reconsidering even thinking about assassinating Reynolds. Still, he was suddenly finding it too hard to imagine how someone with such a kind face, who made him feel so happy, could be capable of such monstrosity.

"I want you to think carefully about this," Vietnam spoke, her voice quiet and her head bowed. "The reason I brought you here seems apparent at first guess. America killed innocents so therefore you shouldn't bother yourself with trying to save him, but there's always an opposite side to the coin. In the end, my opinion doesn't matter, because it's your decision. My Lai just gives you your options."

"What are my options?" Japan was staring up at the proud stone woman, feeling the first raindrops splatter on his cheeks and forehead as the sky groaned like a truck rolling over a bridge.

"You described his face and how terrified he was. America was scared like that once before and this is what happened. He and his people slaughtered 504 innocent men, women, and children. This is what happens when nations lose control. I still remember the fire, the bodies. I watched him run down a woman who was trying to escape with her baby into the forest. He caught her and stabbed her through the chest with a bayonet. Then he crushed the baby's skull under his foot."

"Oh, Kami." America's face flashed before his eyes, his happy grin and that dopey smile after Japan had scrambled out of the stream the day Romano was murdered, blond hair plastered over his eyes. America was just so innocent and naïve. It was those traits that allowed Japan to finally forgive him for Nagasaki and Hiroshima.

At first Japan had never intended to forgive him, but when America ran into his hospital room, screaming apologies his boss would be angry about, it was hard to hold onto that hatred. For nearly three weeks he had been laid out in a hospital bed, writhing in agony from the radiation burns on his back. In those days, Japan thought about America's face, wanting to see it twisted in agony, but thinking about it and seeing it person were two different things. When the younger nation came into the room crying and begging for forgiveness, Japan found the hatred he had clung to like a drowning man to a buoy melt away. America had helped him rebuild, which was where their friendship definitely began to grow.

America hadn't used an atomic bomb on another nation ever since.

Yet, the memories of his smiling innocent America were replaced by a darker one. One with narrow ice blue eyes who chased down a young mother and murdered her in cold blood. As Japan looked about the area that was now a memorial, he felt as if he were pushed back in time. The statue of the strong woman with her defiant fist in the air was gone, replaced by the screaming people and soldiers. It was all so familiar.

America was standing by the hut nearby as it burned behind him. Machine gun fire punctuated the air along with agonized screams. America held his own gun out to the side as he watched the villagers scramble for safety while his crazed soldiers milled around him, silhouetted by the flames, only their eyes and grinning mouths visible. America wasn't smiling, just staring, blood splattered across his face while the young woman and her baby lay dead at his feet.

It was so familiar. He found himself not angry, but saddened. Everything America did was just so…similar to something else. It was something so bad Japan had attempted to block it from his memories. What was it?

"Was he stopped?"

"Yes. A helicopter crew threatened to shoot him and open fire on his soldiers if he continued, but by that time the damage was done. So, it's up to you." Vietnam's voice snapped him back to reality. "You can take this either way. America is a monster and doesn't deserve help, or America's dangerous when he's scared and under an incompetent ruler. He was both of those things when he destroyed My Lai and he's both of those things now. Only this time, he's scared of his incompetent ruler who can be disposed of. You just have to judge him for yourself."

"Judge…him?" Japan uttered weakly as he was pushed back into the midst of the massacre again. He saw it clearly, America chasing the woman and her baby, eyes wide with rage and crazed terror. The woman clutched the infant to her chest, her conical hat bouncing behind her. Around her, huts burned, people were being herded into ditches, and men were doing unspeakable things.

"Yes," Vietnam's voice confirmed. "It's your decision, whether or not the abuse he suffers now is karma for all his wrong doings, or if it's just a gateway for him to commit another atrocity."

"But does he deserve to even be saved?" Japan found himself asking, sinking to his knees as the woman continued to run, making a break for the rice paddy, looking over her shoulder in fear. Why was this so familiar?

"That's up to you."

Suddenly, the woman changed, she was still running, but her outfit morphed into something else. Her conical hat was gone and her clothes were suddenly made of silk. She still clutched the baby, eyes terrified as she futilely sprinted for her life and the life of her child. Japan felt his heart speed up when he looked back to America and found he too had changed.

Blond hair had turned black, blue eyes to brown. The grass huts morphed into ruined buildings destroyed by bombings. Japan realized with growing horror he was staring at himself. The woman was Chinese now instead of Vietnamese, but the scenario was exactly the same.

Japan watched from where he sat on his knees, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent scream as the woman started running towards him. He saw her fully now, how young she was as she held on tightly to her crying child. Tears were trailing down her face as she stumbled but kept her balance, black hair whipping around her face. She was getting closer and closer and Japan found himself unable to move.

She was changing, along with the thing chasing her. She switched from Chinese to Vietnamese, conical hat behind her one second then gone the next. The nation behind her was America briefly, then Japan, wide crazed eyes switching from brown to blue, blue to brown. She was screaming, the baby crying.

Japan just watched, frozen as she neared him, the humid air suddenly forcing its way into his lungs and stomach, making it churn revoltingly.

When she was all but a few feet away from him, she suddenly halted in her tracks. Her eyes were still wide as a blade punched through her chest. Her arms went limp and she dropped the baby.

"_No! Japan, no~aru! Don't!"_

The woman fell to the side, and it was America standing behind her again. He looked down at the baby, blue eyes cold as the child cried, arms flailing.

"It's your choice whether or not he deserves to be saved or if his action damns him. You're the judge."

America lifted his boot above the child's head.

"_KIKU STOP IT!"_

But in the end, it was Japan who brought his foot down.

He let out a scream and whirled away from the memorial, struggling away until his head hung behind the bushes nearby. He felt his stomach twist in on itself and he threw up, tears flowing down his cheeks. He panted and wiped his mouth after the tide passed, feeling horrible and sick.

The clouds broke and the rain came down in sheets, the sky letting out another roar. In mere seconds, Japan's hair was plastered to his forehead and the chill of the falling water soaked through his uniform.

"Kiku!" Vietnam's alarmed voice made him raise his head weakly. He felt his sister's hands on his shoulders and he sat back on his haunches. He pressed a hand over his quivering mouth as tears dribbled down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Japan whispered, suppressing a sob.

"Kiku, it wasn't your fault," Vietnam soothed as she knelt beside him. "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was," Japan cried. "It was my fault."

"_I'm so disappointed in you~aru." _

"I can't judge America," Japan sobbed as Vietnam pulled him into an embrace. "I can't judge him because we're the same."

"_If you're so disappointed, then hit me back!" _Japan had screamed, backhanding China across the face. China simply turned his head and slowly looked back at him, eyes full of hurt. _"You hit me before, do it again!" _

"_No~aru. I tried." _

Japan slapped him again.

"_Hit me back!"_

"_No~aru."_

Another sharp crack as the back of Japan's hand collided with China's cheek.

"_Hit me back." _

"_I'm too tired~aru." _

Now Japan's fingers curled into a fist as he hit China again, sending the other nation tumbling into the rubble of what was once the proud city of Nanjing.

"_I hate you! I hate you!" _Japan straddled him and attacked, tears blurring his vision. China only looked at him, face red and bruised as Japan continued his assault. China didn't lift a hand against his younger sibling. Finally Japan stopped, looking down at his older brother with a mixture of horror and hatred.

"_I figured as much~aru. You killed her because she belonged to me." _China's voice quivered, his brown eyes, identical to Japan's own, were watering pools of disappointment, anger and sadness. _"Kiku, how could you be so evil~aru?" _

"_You." _Japan simply wrapped his fingers around China's neck and squeezed.

"I can't hate America!" Japan cried, letting go of his pride and leaning against Vietnam for support. "I can't hate America because of what he did to you! I did the same thing!I did it to China!" Vietnam merely looked down at Japan, her expression saddened as the water dripped off her hair. "I…I never even apologized." His voice dropped. "Even though I never said I was sorry, China still…he still…" Japan realized he was crying, the rain mingling with his tears.

"I'm sorry," Vietnam apologized, pulling him close. "I shouldn't have brought you here."

"No," Japan argued. "I…sometimes I convince myself that I didn't do it. That I couldn't have been that cruel. I forget because that's the only way to keep myself from going insane. China still talks to me, still cares about me even though…even though…." Japan trailed off once more, his sobs overtaking him as he and his sister sat together as the water from the sky poured down upon them.

"Have you made your choice then?" Vietnam questioned. Japan nodded, looking up at her with an almost apologetic expression.

"I can't judge him, and if he deserves to be beaten and afraid, then so do I. I have to save him, Vietnam." Japan took a deep breath, flicking his rain dampened hair out of his eyes. He pictured his smiling happy America, and felt the strange but strong feelings swell around his heart.

Maybe he wasn't in love with America, but he cared. So what if America didn't return these feelings? So what if he still had something for Vietnam? Those reasons for not doing anything suddenly seemed so childish now that My Lai had opened his eyes to the bigger picture.

America was dangerous when he was scared, and Reynolds was proving to be a dangerous man. Japan suddenly wanted to throw up all over again when Reynolds came to mind. That man put his hands on America, put that awful look of sheer terror on his face. Japan knew America had his flaws, but there were so many wonderful things about him as well.

Those wonderful things were enough to make Japan want to save him. He couldn't bring himself to justify the abuse for what America had done in the past. Besides, he made his mistakes as well, all nations did. Although that didn't excuse the wrongs done, if being abused was justice, then all nations deserved to be beaten.

"On December 13, 1937, I invaded China's city of Nanjing by entering through the city' s Zhongshan and Pacific Gates. Then, I slaughtered over 300,000 people," he told, looking down at the sopping wet ground and watching as his fingers curled into the damp soil. "It was the same thing America did to you, but on a much wider scale. Over a six week period, I beheaded, disemboweled and burned thousands of people. Over 20,000 women were raped by my soldiers." He looked up at Vietnam again, eyes hooded. "Now tell me, do I have the right to forsake him for committing the same crime as me?"

"Like I said, the decision is yours," Vietnam answered.

"Do you still care for him?" Japan asked softly. Vietnam let out a breath that was lost to the pattering rain.

"I have no claim on America now. He's young and fickle, but he'll give you 110 percent of himself if it makes you happy." At this, Vietnam's eyes shadowed with pain. Yes, it was clear she wasn't over whatever had transpired between them. "He'll break your heart if you let him."

"Thank you," he whispered, barely audible over the pounding of the rain and the rumbles of the sky. He took her hand within his own. Vietnam merely gave him a smirk and ruffled the top of his head.

"You can tell Korea that you have my approval," she teased. "I'll be sure to bring lots of flowers and sake." Japan felt his face fall, somehow feeling as if the significance of the moment had been somewhat lost.

"Why is everyone planning my wedding before me?"

"We just want to see you happy, Kiku," Vietnam said, hugging his shoulders. There was a flash of lighting and for a moment the entire memorial sight was lit up with blinding white light. "America makes you happy. It's so obvious, I mean, you're even putting your own people at risk to stop him from being hurt, and you haven't been happy in a long time, Kiku."

"I have too!" Japan argued.

"Really?"

"Yes, Italy-kun and Germany-sama are good friends and I enjoy their company."

"But you're not in a relationship."

"Who says I need to be in a relationship to be happy?" Japan demanded.

"Well, the only time you seem happy is when you're with someone," Vietnam reasoned. "The last relationship you had was Greece and that was years ago."

"You make me sound like a old hermit."

"You _are_ an old hermit," Vietnam said fondly. "But your _our_ old hermit and we can all see that America makes you happy."

"I'm too old for him," Japan sighed. "I care for him, that doesn't mean I want to be with him."

"He wants to be with you," Vietnam said innocently. Japan blinked, finding it hard to see her face in the dark, thus at loss to tell if she was kidding or serious.

"When did he tell you this?"

"He didn't, I just know." It came out rather reluctantly and breathy. "Kiku, I'm okay with it. I'm not some poor little girl caught up in a fantasy. It's clear you care for him more than I ever did. You'll be good for each other."

"Whatever," Japan growled, really not wanting to prance down the 'Let's Marry America-kun Route' with yet another member of his family. Instead he brought the conversation back to the deadly task he had assigned himself. "Reynolds is a monster and Kami only knows what he'll make America do now that nations are falling." To his surprise, Vietnam gave a smile and helped him to his feet, the roar of thunder adding to the thick pattering of the rain.

"In that case, this conversation never happened, and you were with me when the President of the United States went missing. Now, let's get back to the car so we can get out of the rain and make a plan."

* * *

Okay History First:

On March 16th, 1968 the demoralized soldiers of 'Charlie Company' or 'C Company' entered the small hamlet of My Lai and killed innocent civilians in what is now known as the My Lai Massacre. They were told Viet Cong were in the area, but upon entering the vilage met no resistance from the villagers who were mostly old men, women, children and babies. The death count estimates are estimated between 304 and 504, but the memorial lists 504 names, so it was used here.

Hugh Thompson, Army helicopter pilot, with his door-gunner Lawrence Colburn and crew chief Glenn Andreotta famously stopped the massacre by landing his helicopter between the soldiers and the remaining Vietnamese and threatening to open fire on the soldiers should they continue.

The Nanking Massacre or the Nanjing Massacre was an attack similar on the civilians of China's capital. The death count is usually ranged in the 30,000 mark though actual count is uncertain. A large sect of Japanese deny it ever occured.

Thank you all so much for your support! Lucky will be coming back soon so horay! I'll put the shout outs in later becuase I've tried to upload this three times already only to have my internet crash so I'm not taking any risks!


	19. The Boogeyman

Okay, this chapter is rated 'SF' for SUPER FUCKED UP!!!!! Again, like the Nussia chapter if you have a weak stomach, do not continue. This story is now going up to a rated M level, because as we reveal Blue (yeah, we're doing him/her first) it's going to get real screwy real quick! Also, last chap from Angel for a LONG time and Lucky takes the reigns and leads you deeper into this rather morbid tale....

Oh, and the rabbit was named after Marilyn Monroe! Good job to the two authors who got that!

**Disclaimer: **Do not own...

* * *

The plan was relatively simple, but dangerous. After booking a flight from Hanoi to Hong Kong under a fake name and doing the same for a cheap hotel room, Japan now sat across the theater from where Reynolds, China's boss, Xi Feng, Russia's newly elected boss, Vladimir Novikov, and Finland's boss, Alsa Kirjavainen, watched the show on stage. Japan's face was wrapped in a heavy scarf, only his eyes visible from the slit in the fabric. There was no mistaking it now, Japan was stalking Reynolds.

After he and Vietnam had returned to her car and back to her house in Hanoi by late the next day, they managed to do some research and found that Reynolds was planning to meet Xi Feng in Hong Kong. After their meeting, they planned to see a show in a new theater which also sported a fine five star restaurant.

Apparently (and to no surprise) Reynolds wasn't fond of the fact China had taken control of Russia after his near collapse, and found the death of Nussia suspicious.

Kirjavainen backed Reynolds and supported the idea of laying out terms for China's temporary control of his neighbor. The idea of Russia possibly becoming communist again through China was considered a grave threat. Reynolds, along with many other bosses, sent aid and workers to Moscow as well, wanting nothing more than to have the world power back on his feet as a democracy. Japan had overheard their meeting, staying close to the shadows and invisible.

He might not have been successful in sneaking up on America unseen, but Japan had a mission now, and that mission was to kill. He and Vietnam had thought for days on how to get away with it, knowing that four bosses in one place was going to be heavily guarded.

They knew simply poisoning Reynolds would do no good. There was a good chance he'd be saved and it would draw immediate attention, possibly getting Japan caught. Shooting him guaranteed the same problem, along with the fact they were sure the theater was going to be looking for weapons of any sort. Reynolds needed to simply disappear, and by the third day of putting their heads together, they came up with the best possible solution.

Japan wasn't completely surprised at Vietnam's willingness to help him. She cared for him and, as much as she tried not to, cared for America as well. She insisted she was helping completely for Japan's sake and Japan didn't bother getting her to admit otherwise. It wasn't his place to criticize and he was truly grateful for her help.

Japan stared at the group of bosses on the balcony of the theater from his place in the back. So far, all the wealthier guests ignored him. Japan himself was dressed in the finest suit he could buy, knowing he needed to blend in. The scarf that hid his identity was also made of expensive maroon silk, allowing him to breathe.

Still watching the bosses above, he felt a pang from behind his ribs when he spotted America next to Reynolds, chatting quietly with Finland, who seemed to be enjoying the show. Kirjavainen looked to her nation and gave him a kind smile which he returned before saying something that made them both giggle. The bandages around America's head had changed, probably done by Reynolds so the blood wouldn't disgust the other three bosses.

Japan then watched with boiling hatred as the President lifted a hand and placed it on top of America's head, ruffling his hair as if he were the kindly father type everyone believed. Even from the distance, Japan saw the pain in America's eyes as Reynolds's hand irritated the wound on his head.

Xi Feng and Novikov were impassive as they sat together a little ways apart from the other two bosses. Japan's own boss was currently under the impression he was helping Vietnam in dealing with the riots breaking out in her southern tip. She was his alibi and only protection, but he knew he could trust her with his life.

He also had called Italy to let him know he was with Vietnam and to speak to Iceland (now that he was somewhat recovered from the torture he endured) and to investigate Hong Kong and Taiwan's house without him. Italy had wished him luck, Japan also doing the same for them, whereas Germany undoubtedly knew something was up. However, the chances of them running into each other were slim, even if they were in the same general location.

Thankfully, Italy had hogged the phone without any intention to share, never giving Germany time to interrogate. Once Italy hung up, Japan had turned off his cell phone. Last thing he wanted was for his phone to go off in the middle of a murder.

Japan reached into his pocket and withdrew the small capsule he had stolen from a rather shady merchant in Hanoi. It was white, elongated and could very well be mistaken for a tic-tac, but was really a powerful sexual stimulant. The plan was simple: slip Reynolds the pill and wait for it to take effect. He was then to start a fight nearby to distract the guards, then slip Reynolds the address to the shipyard a few miles away, promising him pretty girls he could screw all night long.

He'd then give Reynolds instructions on how to ditch his guards and find the yard. Japan had taken the opportunity to memorize the layout of the grandiose hotel where Xi Feng, Novikov, Kirjavainen, and Reynolds were staying and had come up with a relatively fool-proof way for Reynolds to escape. Of course if the President were in his right mind, he'd never leave his guards to look for a stranger.

The drug would be the main factor to make Reynolds obey him, as its effects could only be relieved by time and nothing else. With his wife across the sea and no way to relieve himself, he'd be desperate. Once he met Japan at the shipyard, that was where his life would end.

Many things could go wrong, but Japan was determined and although he couldn't say he was a particularly lucky nation, he felt as if something was on his side tonight. It gave him assurance, for he knew failure was not an option.

Taking his eyes off the four bosses, Japan silently slipped out of his chair and hurried out of the theater's stage area to make his way towards the restaurant on the other side of the lobby to the splendid theater. Guests could order dinner while watching the show or make a reservation at the restaurant then eat afterward, which made it all the more easy for Japan to spike Reynolds's drink.

Making sure his scarf was still secure around his face, he entered the fine restaurant by sneaking past the host, who was busy looking through his guest book for a elderly couple's reservation, and stood by the kitchen door and behind a potted plant as servers rushed in and out, pushing carts of food and fine wine out to the dining area.

Japan looked about the dining area, spotting a few tourists here and there along with a group of happily chatting business men. Everyone was otherwise occupied, either by their company or by their food. No one noticed him hiding behind the plant, the oblivious host now showing the elderly couple to their table.

Precisely ten minutes ago, the bosses had ordered something delivered to them. Japan assumed it was wine, as he was pretty sure the large glass enclosed area on the other side of the restaurant was reserved for their dinner. Japan had taken in the face of the young waiter who took their order from his seat below, memorizing it.

Japan waited with all the tension of an impatient thoroughbred for his waiter to appear. Reaching into his pocket, he felt for the bottle of chloroform and the white rag he was going to need. Upon finding them, he let his fingers run over them for reassurance.

Finally, the continuously swinging door opened to reveal Japan's target: a young man with short, slicked back hair and a pair of glasses resting on his nose. The young man was pushing a small silver cart with two bottles of wine in a bowl of crushed ice. Japan waited for him to make it past the first table and ever so slowly crept after him. He kept close to the wall as the waiter made it across the lobby and stood ready for the elevator to open.

Japan didn't hesitate and found the stairwell nearby, pushing the doors open and practically sprinting up the steps. From his vast studying of the theater, the balcony seats were on the third story floor, and the elevator a little ways down the hall he was going to come across as soon as he opened the door to the stairs.

He passed very few people as most took the elevator and only got a few strange looks for his obvious head gear. The stairs were abandoned and empty afterward. He was panting lightly as he finally made it to the third floor, and wasted no time in reaching into his pocket and readying the chloroform and the rag. All he needed to do was wait for the waiter to pass. Pushing the door open slightly, he looked out the crack and watched.

Sure enough, the waiter came around the corner, nodding politely to a few people who passed. Japan tensed, watching almost hungrily as the waiter pushed the cart onwards. Japan bit his lower lip as the man was finally in reach. Japan took a second to let out a breath and lunged. Opening the door, he pressed the cloth to the waiter's nose and mouth, hooking his free arm around the young man's neck.

The waiter's arms instinctively went to Japan's arm and his dress shoes kicked feebly at the carpet. Japan didn't relinquish his hold and brought him through the door, his struggling becoming more feeble as the seconds ticked by.

It didn't take him long to pass out. He collapsed like a bag of potatoes and Japan immediately dragged him to a corner. There he began the delicate process of relieving the poor man of his clothes. Luckily, the waiter's outfit was much the same as Japan's: black pants and a white dress shirt. So Japan simply took the tie, the pendant and the jacket, placing it over his own and fastening every button to perfection.

Afterward, he removed the chloroform bottle from his pant pocket and wiped it down with the rag. He then placed it into the pocket of the waiter. No doubt he'd be frisked before entering the balcony seats. He was about to continue on his quest, but stopped and stared at the unconscious waiter for a moment, then arranged him so that he was sitting on the steps, leaning against the wall. Now he looked as if he were simply napping on the job. Surely he'd be in trouble, but he was unknowingly serving a higher purpose so Japan could forgive himself.

Hurrying out the door, Japan took the unconscious waiter's place behind the cart and found four glasses already poured. Taking the pill out of his pocket, he dropped it in one and watched with a small smile as it immediately began to dissolve. Once the wine returned to its original red shade, Japan immediately pushed the cart the rest of the way.

He came to a heavily guarded curtain where he knew the bosses were staying. He couldn't help but feel the burst of anxiety at how well-prepared most of the guards were. Each one was undoubtedly carrying a gun, but if they found out one of the drinks was spiked…he didn't want to think of what might happen. Still, he persevered as stood before them, thankful he had disposed of the chloroform.

Immediately one that was clearly Chinese came to him and began frisking, patting places that made Japan bite his tongue uncomfortably. Another guard came and studied the wine, sniffing lightly at the glasses. Japan felt utterly relieved, knowing the particular drug he stole was undetectable by smell. It felt like hours before the Chinese guard felt it safe to let him pass and the other guard put the inspected wine glasses down.

Japan merely bowed, also feeling incredibly lucky they didn't question the scarf around his face and made his way through the curtains. Upon entering, he watched as Finland turned to Kirjavainen and spoke to her in Finnish.

"_Viini on täällä, Neiti." _She looked over her shoulder to where Japan approached, spotted the wine and addressed the other bosses in English.

"The wine is here, gentleman." Novikov turned, his expression rather tired, along with Xi Feng and Reynolds, who were both politely expectant. Japan merely brought the cart before them, picking up the spiked glass and handing it to Reynolds. He then handed others theirs, Xi Feng taking a small sip while Novikov twirled his in one hand.

However, it was Reynolds Japan was watching expectantly, itching for the man to take a nice deep swig. America hadn't taken his eyes off the play, his face tense and fingers knotted together nervously. That was good. The last thing Japan wanted was for America to see him. Still, as he turned to leave, he noticed Finland staring at him curiously and realized he was glaring at Reynolds a little too intensely.

Bowing politely once more to the bosses, he left the cart and headed for the curtain that separated them from the outside hall. Japan, although knowing he shouldn't, peeked over his shoulder to sneak one last glance at Reynolds, and watched with another dark grin as the President tilted his head back and drank, adams apple bobbing with each swallow.

Phase one was complete. It was almost too easy.

Japan hurried back down the stairs, not wanting to be in close proximity to anyone else, but kept the waiter's tie, pendant and jacket. He had a feeling he was going to need them later. Then he descended in record speed, walked briskly across the lobby where a large grand piano was playing something from Beethoven and reentered the stage area in time to see the play come to an end.

He clapped with every one else, looking up at the balcony. Xi Feng stood and gestured with his hand for the other three and their two nations to follow someone out of sight. Japan noticed with growing glee that Reynolds was adjusting his tie, a sign he was getting uncomfortable. America merely followed him out of sight, head down like a beaten dog.

As everyone began to file out, Japan made it back to the restaurant by sneaking by the host yet again (they really should consider replacing him) and taking his place behind the potted plants. A waitress was leading them to the glass enclosed area, completely oblivious to the bosses' guards. The four of them walked together, talking, while Finland and America dallied behind, presumably still conversing.

Finland seemed concerned, and Japan's eyes switched to America's face, but failed to see anything as the younger country walked out of sight by entering the enclosed area obviously reserved for the most important guests. The guards positioned themselves at the opening like gargoyles.

Japan, knowing there was nothing more he could do for the time being, simply watched the clock. The drug needed about ten minutes to take full effect. In the meantime, Japan searched the area for candidates to fight. He was in luck.

Across the way from him were two men, each talking to a woman while standing facing away from each other. A little ways behind them was another plant which offered itself as Japan's protection. Perhaps he was right and there was something on his side tonight, for the plan was ghosting along smoothly. Keeping to the perimeter of the restaurant and remaining inconspicuous he closed in on his target.

Finally making it to his plant, Japan parted the leaves and studied the two. Each one had a wine glass in hand as they animatedly chatted with the two gorgeous women. The man on the right seemed to be having more luck with his date as she laughed at one of his jokes, whereas the man on the left's date only gave a strained smile and nodded every now and then.

Japan decided that since the man on the right was an apparent lady's man, he'd make the man on the left's night a little more interesting. Reaching out, her sunk his hand into the man on the left's pocket and withdrew a wallet, making sure he felt it. Then as fast as possible, stuck it in the man on the right's pocket. Sure enough, the man on the left felt his back pocket, and finding his wallet missing, turned around to see it in the other man's.

Immediately, he shoved the other man, who spilled some of his wine on his date's white gown. The woman gave a cry and the lady's man whirled around and began yelling. The man on the left, who was justifiably upset that the lady's man had stolen his wallet, yelled back and in no time there was an all out brawl.

One of the men shoved the other into some one else's table, sending the expensive meal tumbling to the floor. The two women they were flirting with before backed up against the wall in apparent shock. However, Japan could see the amusement glinting in their eyes.

Japan inched back to the plant by the kitchen and watched as the guards stepped in to help the regular staff break up the commotion. Out of the kitchen came the waitress who had led the four bosses to their table with their dinner on a silver platter. Seeing the fight, she froze, unsure of what to do, giving the Japan the perfect opportunity to make himself seen. Luckily he kept his waiter outfit and took the platter from the terrified waitress, who seemed to be the timid kind.

"I'll take care of the food, Miss," he said in Chinese. She merely gave him a thankful look before hurrying back into the ever swinging door. Taking her place behind the platter he made his way unhindered by the guards, who were now trying to pull the two men off each other along with an innocent guest who was caught between their flying fists.

As he walked into the reserved area, he was thankful that Novikov, Xi Feng, Finland and Kirjavainen were too busy watching the fight to really pay him any mind. Reynolds was a different story. Already his pupils had dilated, and he was constantly fiddling with his tie, loosening and tightening it. A thin sheet of sweat was visible on his brow as he dabbed his forehead with a napkin.

Japan began setting the food on the table and accidentally caught America's eye. He froze for a moment when he became aware of the other nation's stare. However, America didn't seem to register his presence. His blue eyes were dull, lifeless and glassy like that of a doll's. Yet, it was the way he was breathing that made Japan's heart twist with agony. He was doing it in short bursts, chest jerking slightly as if he were having trouble. Japan had seen that kind of breathing before: the hitched bursts and slight wheeze.

America's ribs were broken. It took every ounce of mental restraint Japan had not to simply take the tray and slam it over Reynolds's head. Instead, he merely turned away from America and set the food down, largely ignored by the bosses who were still watching the fight unfold.

"You look uncomfortable, _xian sheng_," Japan noted, directing his gaze at the unsightly bulge in the President's pants. Reynolds startled and looked up, giving Japan a wry smile. His eyes were bloodshot and he was gnawing on his lower lip like bubble gum.

"I don't know. Something must have been in the wine. I…God, I need to…" Reynolds gave a small laugh, shaking his head. His leg was jerking up and down while his fingers flexed with obvious discomfort.

"I can help you with that, you know?" Reynolds stared at him, clearly not in his right mind, which made Japan grin from behind the scarf.

"H-How?" Reynolds shifted his legs uncomfortably, his hands balled into tight fists in order to keep them from reaching down his pants. Japan simply handed Reynolds the paper from within his pocket.

"Come to this address, no guards," Japan ordered. "There are many beautiful women for you there. All of which will serve your every whim and command." Reynolds closed his eyes briefly as if trying to clear his head enough to think. However, the drug was obviously more powerful and his eyelids cracked open again, a desperate look on his face.

"Tell me what to do," he pleaded, shifting his legs around the uncomfortable lump between them. Japan merely gave a polite bow before leaning forward, brown eyes full of intensity. He spoke quietly, not wanting America to overhear and possibly identify him.

"At exactly ten o'clock, tell your guards you need to use the restroom. Then, on the bottom floor, go into the third stall and get rid of your cell phone or any bug you may have on yourself. Above you there should be a window, climb out of it and go to the bus stop a few blocks down the road. Take the next buss to an old ware house and walk the rest of the way down the street to that address. It's a shipyard. I'll meet you at the front gate. The girls will be waiting."

"How much will it cost?" Reynolds asked. Japan merely gave another unseen grin before patting his sexually aroused victim on the shoulder.

"For you, it's free. They need practice. Besides, you are a very important man and I'd like to have the business of your colleges if you don't mind." Reynolds gave a small miserable whimper before lifting the sleeve of his suit and looking at his wristwatch.

"It's nine o'clock now. I'll wrap this up in an hour and meet you there as promised." Ah the power of sex and drugs was a wonder to behold. If Reynolds were in his right mind, the comment about no guards would be enough to send up red flags, but the poor bastard was so horny he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Good. I promise, the pain will subside once you use one of my girls," Japan whispered. "They're the best in all of China. No one will ever find out and you'll simply disappear." Reynolds nodded again, not catching the murderous tone in Japan's calm voice. "I'll be waiting." Japan turned away at this, forcing himself not catch one last look at America.

He'd laid the trap now all he had to do was make it to the shipyard and wait for his victim to arrive. He wondered briefly how Germany and Italy were doing in their investigation, but pushed it out of his head as he left the theater and stood by the nearby bus stop. Silently he waited as the bus finally approached.

There wasn't much thought as he boarded and took a seat near the front. Hong Kong's city was busy but Japan managed to get to the shipyard in a little less than a half an hour. He got off and entered through the imposing gates. Earlier he had set up everything perfectly. He'd lead Reynolds deeper into the yard and closer to where the concrete dock made off into the ocean. Most of the workers had gone home for the night, but Japan had still been careful about performing the murder in the darkest part of the yard.

Just as he was thinking about this, he saw a figure approaching in the dim lamplight. Japan grabbed the backpack he had hidden behind one of the porter potties near the opening of the gate and slung it over his shoulder.

"Ah, so you came, _xian sheng. _Very good," Japan said as Reynolds approached. He looked terrible. His brown hair was disheveled and his pants were unbuttoned as if he had tried to relieve himself before coming.

"Please, just show them to me," he begged. Japan noted that his eyes were nearly black with how dilated his pupils were. He was breathing harshly, his broad chest expanding painfully. "I got away, but they'll be looking for me, please. I can't control myself much longer."

"Right this way," Japan beckoned, turning his back on the desperate President and heading towards where the ocean hissed against the side of the dock. The tall shadows of ships floated in the darkness. He walked between the rows of packed storage which stood like looming towers, seemingly enclosing the doomed man. He heard Reynolds breathing heavily behind him, clearly nervous when he started to make small talk.

"So, why do you wear that scarf?"

"Religious purposes."

"You're religious?"

"Very, but you sound surprised by this."

"Well, I wasn't aware prostitution held room for any sort of religion."

"Oh, 'prostitution' is such a vulgar term," Japan sighed, reaching between one of the towers of storage and taking his sheathed katana silently. "I prefer the art of pleasuring." Japan looked over his shoulder at Reynolds, who appeared to be a nervous wreck, walking slightly bow-legged. Japan had to hold back a cold laugh. "Be kind to my girls, they don't speak English well, but they'll do their best to make sure you are fulfilled." Japan paused, then added in a quiet hiss, "Treat them better than your nation."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't listen to me, I have a habit of talking to myself," Japan assured, waving a hand as if to dismiss the matter. "So, I assume you've had this kind of service before?"

"I've actually never done this before," Reynolds admitted.

"Ah, well you're lucky then, they like virgin American boys."

"I have a wife."

"They won't know that." There was a slight scuffle and Reynolds stumbled a bit on a piece of coiled rope. "Careful now, we wouldn't want to ruin that lovely suit you're wearing."

"Hard to believe you get business. Especially in your...form of government, no offense."

"None taken," Japan said. "We all can't be like the mighty West." Reynolds was silent after this save for his breathing, but spoke up again to address Japan's rather large pack.

"What's in the backpack?"

"Oh, a little of this and a little of that. No worries about your dear wife finding out about this. You are completely anonymous."

"She'd be so angry if she did. I'm usually not like this," he voiced, clearly asking Japan to talk him out of what he was about to do. "Marcy is her name. We've been sweethearts since high school."

"Really, and do you beat her as well?" Japan asked under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Again, just me talking to myself."

"I already feel so guilty. Marcy is a good woman and I love her more than anything." It came out pleading.

"That's nice, you can teach her something new when you're done with my girls." Reynolds didn't answer after that, but his breathing was just as, if not more labored. Finally, they came to the edge of the dock, one ship before them groaning on the harbor like some sleeping beast. "We're here." Japan stopped.

"Where are we?" Reynolds demanded, looking about the area. "I don't see any women." Japan merely unwound the scarf from his face and unsheathed his katana. He pivoted on his heel so he faced Reynolds and brought the sword back, smiling wildly at the bewildered expression on the man's face.

"Where you die," Japan answered quietly, thrusting the blade forward and stabbing Reynolds through the neck. With the hilt braced against his palm, the blade punctured Reynolds's throat and ripped through the back, covered in red.

Reynolds let out a few strangled gurgles, eyes bulging as his hands shakily reached up to the sword embedded in his neck. Still smiling, Japan ripped the katana away, a trail of blood splattering the concrete. Reynolds instantly fell to his knees, grasping at the gaping hole where his throat used to be, gurgling wetly and wheezing. "You're disgusting," Japan hissed, kicking Reynolds in the ribs, causing him to fall over on his side. "As if I'd ever let you near a woman after what you've done to America!"

Reynolds's eyes were still wide as he let out a few more strangled gurgles, before stopping completely and laying still. Japan kicked the bottom of his shoe and the man gave a few death twitches, blood pouring onto the concrete.

Positive he was dead, Japan took the backpack off and placed it on the ground. Then he removed his suit and dress shirt, revealing a black long sleeved one underneath. He folded the suit and shirt and placed them into the front fold of the pack, and withdrew a pair of rubber gloves. The fact that they were pink and covered in flowers was beside the point, he needed to do this as cleanly as possible.

Flipping Reynolds over onto his back, Japan began to undo the buttons to his suit, before removing it completely and folding it as he had done his own, but this time placing it in a plastic bag he had brought along. He did the same with the President's pants until Reynolds was only in his underwear. Japan studied him briefly, taking in his broad chest and well-muscled arms.

No wonder America was so beaten up all the time. Although Reynolds was in his early fifties, he was still well-built and obviously worked out. However, Japan dismissed the thought and wiped the blood off his katana with the scarf he had used to hide his face.

Then, after digging around for a moment, withdrew a jagged hack saw from the confines of the pack. Standing up, he grabbed onto Reynolds's ankles and began towing him to the edge of the dock. Once there, he placed his hands under Reynolds's arms and turned him so his head hung above the ocean.

Reynolds's eyes had since gone glassy and dead, while his mouth hung open in a death screech no one would ever hear. Once his neck lolled back over the edge, Japan took the saw and placed it to the man's already mutilated throat. He began to cut, the gloves becoming stained with blood. It only took a few moments before there was a plop as Reynolds's head fell into the ocean.

Japan waited for what seemed like hours until the corpse bled out, then pulled the remains back in. Once Reynolds was safely hidden in the shadows of the giant supply crate, Japan spread his arms and legs and began to saw them at the joints, holding them still by stepping on them.

Once he was complete, he looked down at his work, the arms and legs now separate from the torso. Bending down again, Japan began rolling the torso towards the edge of the dock. At this point, he was panting lightly and was relieved as it fell into the ocean below with a splash. Food for the fish.

Hurrying back to the arms and legs, Japan reached into the backpack again and withdrew a roll of cellophane wrap. Folding each limb into itself accordingly, he secured the packaging with a thick sheet of cellophane before placing the packages carefully inside the backpack and hoisting it over his shoulder. Then, wiping the handle of the hack saw with his silk scarf, tossed it into the ocean along with Reynolds's head and torso, where it immediately sunk. Lastly, he placed the scarf in another plastic bag and fiddled behind his neck to stuff it inside the pack.

There was a hose nearby if he remembered correctly. He had unrolled it earlier in preparation and didn't take long to find it. Following the length of it, he found the tap and turned it until it was spouting a good spray of water. Going back to where Reynolds had fallen, he began spraying the blood left behind towards the edge of the dock. Luckily it hadn't dried yet, and after he was done, it looked as if nothing had transpired.

Stowing his katana back in its sheath, all he needed to do now was find a place to bury the remaining body parts, then burn the clothes. It was time to go. He carefully removed the gloves and placed them in another baggy from his pocket, then reached behind his head and placed it in another pocket. Hurrying back the way he led Reynolds, Japan stopped abruptly when he spotted someone standing by the front gate of the shipyard.

Japan felt panic threaten, but he kept walking. He had to act natural, but what could he say to make walking out of an empty shipyard at night seem natural? As he approached, he realized he knew who the person was. Light sandy hair and a gentle face turned. Finland waved upon seeing him, smiling lightly.

"Hello Japan! Lovely tonight, isn't it?" Japan paused, unsure of what to do. Finland didn't seem surprised to see him, meaning he knew Japan had been here all along. He recalled just before he drugged Reynolds that Finland had been staring at him curiously. He cursed himself. He should of known Finland was suspicious of him the moment he saw him staring and counted on the other nation following him. Still, maybe the fact Finland happened to end up here was just a coincidence. Surely if Finland witnessed what he had just done, he'd be screaming in terror and calling the authorities, not looking as if he were getting ready to have a civil chat over tea and cookies.

"Um, yes, I find it nice to walk at night, Finland-san," Japan said, giving the other nation a nervous smile. "What brings you to Hong Kong?"

"My boss had a meeting to attend here with America, Russia and China's boss. I came along and just found this place. What are you doing here?"

"I came to see Hong Kong himself and ended up here," Japan answered. Finland merely smiled and walked closer, leaning forward slightly as if to divulge a secret.

"What's in the bag?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, just groceries," Japan answered hastily. Finland's kindly smile was turning slightly creepy. Suddenly his round and innocent eyes appeared to be getting smaller and more angled. Japan shook his head. It was just the light and shadows playing across his face.

Japan swallowed roughly. Even with the excuse of the shadows, Finland was still acting strange, and Japan suddenly felt as if he were staring into the eyes of a hungry wolf. "I-I have to go," Japan stuttered, stepping around Finland and beginning to walk away. Finland didn't make a move to stop him, but spoke up, making Japan halt abruptly.

"When you bury the body parts make sure you make the holes deep. If you don't, a little puppy might come and dig it up looking for food. Woof Woof!" he barked rather cutely, placing his hands on either side of his head to make them seem like ears. Japan's eyes widened and he gasped lightly. "I know because Hanatamago is always digging up strange things and trying to eat them!"

Finland saw.

He whirled around and tried to play dumb, but fear was evident in his voice as he spoke.

"W-What are you talking about, Finland-san?" He gave a nervous laugh. "You sure are acting strange." Finland merely gave another kindly smile, cocking his head and crossing his arms behind his back. However, when he opened his eyes, they were narrowed and what Japan thought was a spark of glee briefly appeared across them. He blinked a few times, feeling as he were just being a bit paranoid, but Finland's expression didn't change.

"Am I?" He gave a light giggle. "Perhaps I had a bit too much wine. I'm just glad you'd _never_ kill anyone, right Japan?"

"Of course not!" Japan answered abruptly. "Killing is immoral."

"It is. Even for a man who hits his nation and breaks his ribs. Even when he makes his nation think he deserves it and brainwashes his nation into denying anything is happening. If someone were to tell everyone else about what that boss was doing, no one would help that nation because they all love the boss, and they'd believe the poor nation when he says nothing is happening, and the poor nation would be be _all alone_. So you'd have no choice but to kill that _bad_ boss." Finland looked upwards at the sky, his lips drawing in a downward arch. "It's a shame we can't see the stars in the city." He looked back down at Japan and his smile returned. "But if you were to kill someone like that, no one would ever know because I'd never tell. Just remember to hide the evidence and burn the clothes, okay?"

"O-Of course," Japan smiled, the fear subsiding, replaced instead by slight uneasiness. Finland didn't seem threatening anymore, just incredibly eerie. Still, Japan could tell he meant no harm, so the Asian nation wasn't so much scared as he was uncomfortable. "That is, if I'd kill someone--which I wouldn't!" He added abruptly. If he panicked now, he'd screw up everything he worked for.

"You know, Su-san and I love each other very much and I'd never want to see anyone hurt him!" Finland exclaimed suddenly, almost excitedly. "I was there when America lost it at the World Meeting and just sitting _close_ to his boss was _super scary_! Even more scary than Su-san!"

"He didn't seem like a good man at all," Japan noted. Finland hummed in agreement, twirling lightly as a breeze rolled by.

"Mmm, and when someone you love is being hurt, it's your job to protect them!" Finland stated. "Su-san protects me and I him, and when we can't protect each other we hurt really badly. If you love someone, it's your duty to do your best to make sure no harm comes to them and when harm _does_ come to them," Finland's eyes narrowed, his smile grew into a dark grin and his voice quieted, "you get rid of the thing that's hurting them."

"I'll see you around, Finland-san," Japan replied anxiously, bowing. He was eager to get away, his discomfort slipping back into fear. "I have somewhere to be." Finland's grin relaxed, but he continued to smile placidly, turning back to face the opening of the shipyard gates.

"Good luck," he murmured so softly Japan just barely caught it as he turned down the street.

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America had never been so terrified in his life. All of them were gone. He just returned to his house after the long flight back from Hong Kong, and now not only was his boss was missing, his house was empty. His states were gone. Every single one was gone. It was like walking through an abandoned library. The only sounds were the raindrops pounding on the roof like a million angry drummers.

Usually Delaware or Pennsylvania would be first to greet him at the door, but they were absent. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his right side, he immediately began to search the house, allowing himself to limp now that he was alone. There weren't even any servants bustling about. The house was dead silent. Somehow the rain was just making it worse.

Reynolds had disappeared by apparently crawling out a window in the hotel bathroom and hadn't been seen since. Both he and China's people were looking all over Hong Kong for lost President, but so far everything had come up inconclusive. It was as if the man had simply vanished. America wasn't sure what to do, so after calling the Vice President, who was already aware of the situation, he was told to simply come home as was originally planned.

His Vice President was currently forced into office, all the while heading the investigation on Reynolds's sudden disappearance. Apparently a bus driver had reported a man who looked like Reynolds had gotten on and gotten off shortly after boarding, but other than that, the trail was cold. America wasn't sure if he should be happy or fearful. It had been his dominant thought on the plane ride back, but when he had come home to find the rest of his states gone, Reynolds became the least of his problems.

"Hello?" he called, slightly panicked as he entered through the front, flipping on the lights. "Anyone here? Rosie? Marie? Bernard? Robert?" He called the names of his servants and the soldier who protected the house. There was nothing. He headed into the living room, finding no one there. "Tony?" Oh, he remembered Tony was with Canada. America always felt guilty about leaving him home alone, so Canada always let him stay when America went overseas, but so far the little grey was the only one who was accounted for. America felt his heart beat against his ribcage. He headed down another eerily abandoned hallway and entered the kitchen. America flipped on the lights and felt his breath slam to a sudden and painful halt behind his battered ribcage.

There was blood everywhere, splattered all over the linoleum tiles and cabinets. America's eyes were huge as he hesitantly looked down to find he was standing in a puddle of crimson. America looked up again a little ways and found a small hand sticking out from behind one of the counters. He knew he shouldn't look. He knew he should just turn and walk away, but some morbid bit of curiosity beckoned him forward, demanded he find out who the hand belonged to.

"Oh, my God," America whispered upon finding the owner of the hand. Delaware was splayed over a face-down maid. His eyes were half-lidded, while his throat was cut deep by some kind of blade. The maid's head looked as if it had been split in half, her previously blond hair matted and red. "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"

America let out a scream and ran out of the kitchen back to the living room. Stumbling a bit as he tripped over his own feet, he let out a cry as his ribs let off a particularly painful ache. He needed to get to a phone. Upon finding it, he tore the receiver off the hook and dialed the first number that came to mind. After five rings in which America waited in utter agony, the phone clicked.

"Hello, Japan speaking." America's voice tumbled out faster than his mouth was able to move.

"Japan, I'm sorry! I didn't know who else to call, but my boss is missing…." he trailed off, his entire body trembling as his mind flashed back to Delaware and the maid. Reynolds had kicked him in the side, but not hard enough to break his ribs. He should have known it was a sign. He should have known that Delaware was in danger, but he had been in constant pain ever since Reynolds had started beating him, so he couldn't distinguish between warning pains and pains caused by physical injuries.

"America," Japan's voice was hard. "I need to talk to you about that." America blinked, breathing harsh, his chest sore from the effort.

"About what?" he asked, mind coming back to conversation.

"You're boss. Listen, I need to see you. Meet me outside the airport. I've just flown in and we're getting off."

"You were coming to see me already?"

"Yes, there's a lot we need to talk about, America." Japan sounded tired as usual, but there was something grave in his voice.

"Japan, the reason I called is," America gulped, closing his eyes to gather his thoughts. "I…I found Delaware dead….and the rest of my states are gone!" The realization sunk in and America shouted, "Japan, I'm scared! I came home and all my states are gone and my boss went missing! I don't know what to do!" There was silence on the other end for a long time and America feared the line may have disconnected. "Japan?" he asked shrilly.

"I'm sorry America-kun, please meet me at the airport and I'll explain everything. But, I need you to get out of the house. Now."

"Japan, what is going on?"

"Please, America-kun, just trust me." Japan sounded so certain, the previous exhaustion gone. He now sounded alert and commanding. "Get out of the house."

"A-Alright, just tell me what's going on," America begged.

"I will. I promise." With that, the line went dead and America hurried to the front door. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping him awake as he ran through the rain and got into the car, speeding to the airport. What was usually a twenty minute drive, was completed in ten, windshield wipers racing across the glass.

Jet lag be dammed, he was in a state of pure mental turmoil. He pushed Delaware's face out of his mind, knowing there was nothing he could do. He pulled into the parking lot of the airport and spotted Japan outside the revolving doors. After a shoddy parking job he got out and immediately ran to the other nation, terrified.

The rain was pattering in harsh drops, dripping down the tips of his hair and fogging his glasses. As he finally stood before Japan, successfully drenched, he took off his glasses and wiped them on his sleeve.

"Okay, tell me what the fuck is going on!" he exclaimed. "My states and boss are gone and I just walked into a fucking Steven King and Rob Zombie collaboration!" America let out a shaky breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. Japan merely looked at him impassively, face controlled and even. "God, Delaware." America let his forearm rest against his forehead momentarily, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

Delaware was dead along with every other servant that was there. It was a brutal murder. No. 'Brutal' wasn't the right word at all. Who could have done it? To a _child _no less. That's all Delaware was at heart--a child. He didn't want to think of what had become of his other states. He startled a bit as he felt a pair of hands come to rest on either side of his face.

"America-kun." America opened his eyes and saw Japan looking up at him. The rain trickled in a miniature stream from his hair, down the length of his nose and over his lips as they formed the words, "I killed Reynolds." America felt his eyes widen all over again and his knees grow weak.

"W-What?" he asked, breathless. Japan merely stared at him, his face stoic as usual. America found his own trembling hands reaching up and placing themselves over Japan's to steady himself. Japan's eyes narrowed slightly, but it wasn't out of spite or anger, but of sadness.

"I don't know anything about your states, but I want you to know that I'm the reason Reynolds is gone." He looked away, but didn't make a move to draw his hands back. "After your meltdown I saw how much pain you were in and I couldn't let it continue. So I killed him."

"Y-You killed Mr. Reynolds?" America asked again, unable to believe it. He was only able to stare dumbly at the other nation. Surely this was all just a dream, right? He'd wake up and then Mr. Reynolds would be there, yelling at him, kicking him.

"Yes." Japan lifted his head.

"B-But you were with Vietnam! I tried to call your house, but your boss said..." America felt his voice sputter and die. A whole swarm of emotions tore through his brain, ranging from fury, to embarrassment, to relief, to fear.

"She was my alibi. No one knows where I really was. Not even Germany and Italy. Not even my people."

"W-Why?" America was very close to breaking down into tears. Japan wasn't like this. He said he wasn't the one who killed Delaware and America desperately wanted to believe him, but still, his boss?

"I can't see you hurt, America. I couldn't just watch you be beaten. Please…" Japan trailed off when America's face became horrified and he lowered his hands from where they covered Japan's. Japan had killed Reynolds. Although America knew he should be angry, knew he should be wringing Japan's neck, he found himself unable to move, not even the chill of the rain enough to deter his useless, dumb staring. Suddenly, Japan's eyes filled with pain and he immediately dropped to his knees, despite the puddle they were standing in.

America didn't even notice the strange looks they were getting, just stared down at the other nation bowed at his feet in obvious shame. "I'm sorry if I have dishonored you in any way! I…I just hated seeing those wounds on you! I couldn't stand the way he treated you! I…I realize now that it was selfish of me to…to-"

"Japan," America murmured softly. It was a quiet and quivering vocalization that was barely one step above a whimper, but it was enough to make Japan stop talking, look up in surprise and then flinch at the hard expression on America's face.

"You killed my boss?"

"Yes," Japan answered, looking as if America were about to beat him.

"And do you, swear to God, have nothing to do with…what I just saw?" America asked, his voice quieting to an almost inaudible level as his hands curled into fists.

"Yes." America let out a sigh and kneeled down, looking Japan directly in the eye. His mind was in somewhat of a working order, though not enough to process anything more than Japan had just killed someone for him. He was also aware that he completely believed Japan when he said he had nothing to do with Delaware's murder, because he was Japan. He couldn't _be _Japan and a murderer at the same time.

"That has to be the _stupidest,"_ Japan flinched, "most _idiotic,_" the smaller nation diverted his gaze, "needlessly _risky,_" Japan let out a breath and America's taunt mouth relaxed into an easy smile, "but nicest and most heroic thing anyone has ever done for me!"

"W-What?" Japan asked incredulously, blinking slightly. America continued to smile and placed his hands on Japan's shoulders. America wiped his eyes because of the rain (he was _not crying) _and put his glasses back on, scooting closer to Japan until their faces were only inches apart.

"Would it be totally cliché if I kissed you right now?" He watched with amusement as Japan's cheeks reddened and an utterly mortified expression appeared.

"Uh, f-forgive me, A-America-kun, but I'm confused! I-"

"Well, if it is, just call me Stephanie Meyer!" America laughed before closing the distance between them. Immediately Japan stiffened, but America didn't do more than simply brush their lips together tenderly. It was brief and chaste, but he pulled Japan into a tight embrace, burying his face in the other nation's shoulder, where he _did_ begin to cry.

"I was just so tired, Japan." It was all simply too much. Seeing one of his states slaughtered, but still feeling relief that Reynolds was gone. "I'm still tired."

"America," Japan whispered, tentatively bringing his own hands up to return America's embrace.

"I-I'm just scared! I couldn't save Delaware! I don't even know what's going on! I don't even know what to think!" There was too much to digest. "But Mr. Reynolds is gone," he whimpered, truly afraid this was just a dream and that any moment Japan would vanish, leaving him alone with his enraged boss. "He's gone."

"Yes, he's gone, America," Japan confirmed softly. America felt the other nation's breath on his ear as Japan buried his face in his hair. "I made sure of it. He will never put his hands on you again."

"God," was all he could say. It was really true. Reynolds was no more. Now that he was gone, America realized how much the President made him hate himself. The abuse had been mental as well, bringing up every failure from The Bay of Pigs to Agent Orange. America had started to feel as if everyone were against him.

When he had his breakdown, he saw Seychelles as herself, but it was as if she _wanted _to hit him. From his perspective, it was like every nation in the room was glaring at him, eyes shadowed in anger. All of them looked ready to beat him and so America had panicked. Deep down, although he appeared oblivious to most, America was sensitive when it came to others opinions of him. Reynolds had found that weakness early on and exploited it.

When America had come back to his senses after humiliating himself in front of nearly the entire world, England had at first been worried, but quickly got upset and angry when America refused to tell him what was going on. Canada was the same, making him feel guilty for having him promise to keep the abuse secret. He knew deep down they cared and only wanted to help, but America still felt as if they were ganging up on him.

Japan had been different. Japan hadn't bullied him or demanded he tell someone about the abuse. Japan tended to his wounds and even went so far as to kill for him. It was…it was just too beautiful to imagine.

America calmed himself, pulled back and tipped their foreheads together, both pairs of eyes utterly exhausted. America gave another weak smile. "But I'm happy. I shouldn't be…but you made it stop, because you care about me right?" Japan opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, obviously overloaded. He swallowed before his face seemed to crumple and he nodded, hugging America's neck tightly.

"Yes, I care about you. I care about very deeply, America."

"I'm such a wuss," America sniffed, wiping his eyes again and helping Japan to his feet. "And I noticed something."

"What?" Japan questioned.

"You forgot the 'kun' again." Japan's face turned and alarming shade of red yet again and he looked to the side.

"Well I…" he seemed to be lost on a train of thought and simply smiled, cradling America's face in his hands. "I guess I did." This time, Japan stood on the balls of his feet and kissed the other nation, not caring who was staring.

* * *

Aww! Well, we hoped you enjoyed! This quickly goes to hell so don't get used to fluff (even though that's Angel's forte!) :D Anyway, this is the last chapter from me for about nine months until school is out! So, do me a favor and be kind to Lucky, she's convinced you guys like me more than her and I keep telling her she's a tard and that you guys are like our parents, in that you love us both the same or hate us both the same, whichever's cool! :D

Thanks so much! For all your support! I'll miss you all even though I'll be lurking every now and then!

Shout outs!

**hurleysuki, AnimeSoul17, AzAx, randomlvr1**(You have rights to my first born child), **Plumville Amy, marmoki, Angry Panda Dance, Kyra213, mankinfan, Compleatly Random Dissorder, Victoria Wan, xYukii, VIITheChariot (still waiting for my RussiaxAmerica love!) luffyluffy, Kara2992, dragoneian, luvjOi, Verocat, spocketlaine, I Brake For Bishounen Boys, greenpanic6, AnimeDutchess** (eh he....yeah, hold on to a marraige thought) and

**mangarox14**


	20. The Giggling Granny

**Lucky is back! :D**

**Okay, first thing's first! I'm so sorry that I updated so late. XD Well, let's just say that my parents have a new rule about me only being able to write on the weekends. Therefore...since Angel's struggling with work and AP classes and all that...updates will be slow. **

**Secondly, I bet that we loose half of our darling readers because everyone forgot that we moved this up to M~ XD Well yeah, now the chappies are all going to be jacked up! Since we don't have to hold back anymore~**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Hetalia. I wish I have another witty comment to put after it, but I'm blank right now. I need my Apple Jacks.**

* * *

Alaska stepped out of the shower, tossing on random clothes (he really didn't care about what he was wearing) as he moved over to his computer that was perched on the table right outside his bathroom, grabbing another towel to dry his hair with. With his free hand, he tapped on the mouse pad a few times and successfully opened Facebook. The northern state looked bleakly at the people that were online.

No one. Huh. That was strange. Usually all of his siblings were Facebook addicts. It proved to be the most popular method of communication between him and his brothers and sisters—after all, he lived in a house far, far away. If he wanted to keep up with who was going out with who, who accidentally set who on fire, and what stupid thing his dad did, then he would have to check up on his siblings.

Oh. Never mind. Hawaii just got o—

_lex! lex! omg u wouldnt believe it im at dads house right now!_

The chat pane popped up as soon as Hawaii's name came up. Alaska frowned with surprise and then looked over at his bedroom clock, doing the calculations that were second nature to him. It was around eleven. At night. He sighed, tossing the towel that he was using to dry his hair on his bed. _What are you doing there at eleven at night?_

_lex! oh god shit shit shit shit shit…_

Okay, now something was wrong. Hawaii never cussed.

_Loa, what's wrong?_

_shit shit oh jesus mason's dead!_

Alaska froze. Mason…?

_Delaware's dead?_

His reply came two seconds later.

_shit hell fuck yes oh my god get your ass over here right now! i dont hear anyone in the house!_

Alexei's blood seemed to crystallize.

No one…was in the house?

Then again, a few of his siblings hadn't gotten on Facebook for a long time…which would have been impossible for them. After all, if it wasn't Facebook, then it was text messages, and Alaska actually didn't get many of those lately. Hawaii wasn't serious was she…? Yes. This must be a trick. But Hawaii never lies…

_oh my god lex! lex! ur not dead r u?!_

_I'm not dead, thank you._

Two seconds later, his cell rang.

Alaska forced himself to roll his eyes—something that he would do if there was someone that dared try and prank call him. However, when his fingers reached to grab the device on his nightstand, they were trembling. He ignored that and flipped it open, trying to maintain an indifferent tone. It didn't really work. "Hawaii, you can drop the trick. It's not funny."

A giggle on the other line.

Alaska frowned. Hawaii never giggled. She was more of the tomboy type. Actually, she was a 'Hungary' sort of girl, but he wouldn't go there. He gulped quietly. If it wasn't Hawaii, then it would have to be America…or…

"Hello, love. How are you doing?"

Alaska's scowl deepened. Hawaii never called anyone 'love'. How gay would someone have to be to call someone 'love' all the time? So it wasn't Hawaii. Or America. "Look, Loa, or whoever you are, this really isn't funny. In case if you hadn't gotten word, there are nation-killers running around. So I really don't think this sort of prank is proper right now."

"…Proper, huh?"

"Well at the least you shouldn't be running around making other people think that you sound like a killer," Lex said, rolling his eyes as he tucked his cell phone between his ear and shoulder, typing out a response to Hawaii's new message. _I'm talking to some really suckish prank caller right now, it better not be you._

"…Oh dear. You really are America's kid."

And then a _click_ came from Alaska's doorframe.

The click of a cellphone lid closing.

_oh my god lex hang up right now! u dont know who it could be!_

Alaska looked at the door, his cell phone sliding out from under his cheek and thudding to the ground. The click came from right outside his room. The person that was calling him was right outside his room. They were _right there_. A single slab of wall in between them.

"W-Who's there?"

_lex? lex! what r u doing? did u hang up? lex!!_

The door opened.

Alaska's blue eyes widened to an unbelievable degree when a yellow masked figure simply drifted into the room and then stared right back at him with a coy smile on their face. "Hello there, love. You left your front door locked. So I broke in through a window."

_alexei b jones! what is going on?! why arent u repying?!_

Alaska wasn't a teen to be in denial for long. He soon understood what was going on. This was a killer. He was going to die.

"…Are you here to kill me?"

Yellow smiled sadly.

_lex! dont make me come up there you asshole! reply already!_

"I'm sorry, love, but yes."

The killer pulled out a gun.

_oh my god, lex, I think someone just opened my front door!_

Alaska squinted at the eyes behind the mask, and then his own widened once more. "Jesus. I know who you are."

At once, Yellow was behind him, a hand clamping firmly down on Alaska's mouth, the gun pressed to his temple. Alaska stiffened for a moment and then relaxed. If he guessed right…then he wouldn't stand a chance against this person. He simply closed his eyes, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. Was this how all of his siblings disappeared?

_shit fuck lex someone is in the house i can hear them walking! dammit write back!_

"I…I really am sorry, doll," Yellow whispered. And for a second, Alaska thought he felt the killer rest his head wearily on his shoulder. "If…If I wasn't so…so…_desperate_…" Yellow took a deep breath and straightened, pressing the gun harder against Alaska's head. "I'm really sorry I always paid more attention to your siblings than to you…like everyone else."

Alaska opened his eyes. _I know._

_lex lex someone is outside the kitchen I think they hear me god please write back im so scared lex lex please im begging u!_

"I don't know you too well…but at least you didn't turn out like Cali or Pennsylvania, right?" Yellow seemed to sniff slightly. "I would have loved to find out more about you all, but…I'm not going to get that chance again, am I? But before I lose it for good…how _are_ you guys doing?" Alaska felt the hand loosen around his mouth, allowing him to speak.

"…Hawaii started dating Quebec," Alaska said, his voice sounding hoarse. He cleared his throat and started again. "Hawaii and Quebec are going out. She really likes him…a lot more than she liked me when we were dating. North Carolina and South Carolina broke the chandelier in the dining room…again." Lex was surprised to find himself smiling as he confided in the killer. Yellow seemed to be…calming him. "California dressed Louisiana in girl's clothes again and was punched in the face by Mississippi when he tried to flirt with him. Tennessee and Kentucky became official."

"Really?" Yellow finally interjected. "Calvin and Ginny are going out?"

_lex! plz help me! _

"We had our suspicions before, but Michigan just caught them making out in a closet last week, so they've become the newest thing. I've got a long distance relationship thing going on with Washington right now, but I think she's cheating on me with Oregon, that was-" Alaska gulped and let out a shaky breath, "-before Oregon went missing. Though I don't really mind. Nevada suddenly turned into the only person who could control Cali's perverted antics, and everyone's saying that Delaware kissed Maine."

"Aww, Mason and Courtney would be a cute couple," Yellow laughed.

"That's what Bethany said," Alaska sighed.

_omg lex lex theres this blue masked dude that just broke into the room!_

"…" For some reason, Yellow's silence made Alaska feel uneasy again. He squirmed slightly, trying to turn around to see what was going on. Finally managing to twist his head at least ninety degrees, he saw Yellow listening into an earpiece. "…Fine, fine. And—what? No, I don't know where you put your Cheez-Its. Yes, I know you left them at the base. What? You…listen! I'm kind of _busy_ right now. No, I—of course I haven't been able to take care of the last state! Not with you blabbering on your little—ugh." Yellow pulled out the earpiece and looked at it with disgust. "He hung up on me."

"What's wrong?" Lex asked, more out of being polite than actually caring.

"…I just got a message from Blue." Yellow sounded sad, a big contrast to the irritation he was expressing not two seconds ago. Alaska stiffened once more when he felt the barrel of a gun being pressed to the back of his head. "Other than him asking me if Green stole his Cheez-Its or not, I was ordered to finish you off."

Alaska sighed and closed his eyes.

"I'm…really, really sorry, love."

But no answer came from Alaska. Because Yellow had already pulled the trigger.

_,.  
_

_Loa is offline._

Yellow pulled off his mask and wiped away his fresh tears with the back of his hand. "You…you didn't actually have to die, you know," he whispered softly, lowering the now glassy-eyed boy to the ground. "You…you look too much like Nussia." Blank blue eyes stared up at him. "I wouldn't have done this at all if Blue didn't need some help. I hope you'll forgive me." And with that, Yellow hugged his new confidant and kissed him gently on the forehead.

All of the states were now eliminated.

And now only Washington D.C. remained standing—the capital, heart, and all that was left of America.

~*~-~*~

Japan slowly pulled away from America, still cradling the other nation's face between his hands. The rain continued to pound down as he stared into America's shocked eyes. The other country's cheeks were slightly flushed as water dripped from the tips of his blond hair and down his face, his glasses a tad misty. His mouth was slightly agape and Japan felt his own face burn as he awkwardly removed his hands. Perhaps he had made a mistake. He had been too caught up in the moment. One small kiss didn't mean America wanted to have a relationship, even if it had been on the mouth. Hell, Japan wasn't even sure _he himself _wanted a relationship.

Western culture was just too confusing. In all his anime a kiss (especially if it was on the lips) generally meant that the person wanted to be with with someone else. Then again, America had been upset and confused, meaning perhaps he hadn't been thinking clearly. Humiliation rose within him as he thought about the circumstances leading up to this point. Yes, this was a mistake. America was hurt, confused, and frightened. It was wrong for Japan to take advantage of that and claim something that wasn't his

"Um..." Japan began nervously, looking down at his feet. "I apologize, America-kun." He reverted back to honorifics in hopes to unburden the other nation with the sudden intimacy. "I-I have no excuse for my behavior..." he trailed off again and risked a tentative glance up at America. The other nation's lips were quirked slightly in a small, crooked smile.

"Wow," he whispered. Japan hastily bowed again, the people who walked by giving them a wide berth and strange looks.

"Um, please don't return to your house. I-I'm sure England-san or even Canada-san will be more than happy to take you in," Japan explained, feeling slightly exposed. Now he knew why he didn't act on his emotions. It lead to nothing but humiliation. Kissing America so fiercely had been a mistake and he bit his lip, finally aware of how utterly freezing the rain was.

Japan started to shiver lightly, his uniform increasing in weight the more water it absorbed. America merely remained silent, his strange smile making it impossible for Japan to distinguish if he was happy or just in shock. No, as far as noise went, there was nothing but the irritating, persistent pattering on the concrete and the distant roars of cars and planes. Japan hated the noise, for it along with the pounding of his own heart swelled in his ears, making his head ache with the tension.

Finding the lack of words unsettling, Japan's mouth started to move on its own, the words pouring out with little thought. He just wanted America to say something and end this awkward stretch of one sided conversation. "Italy-kun, and Germany-sama will look at the scene and we'll find out who killed Delaware. Again, I'm so sorry that I did something so rash that made you uncomfortable and I hope that we can get past it and continue on our friendship as-"

Japan's nervous babbling was cut off as he felt a soft hand on his cheek. It forced him to look up at America's smiling face, which was suddenly very close. The pounding of the rain was silent once more as America gave a gentle laugh. He was so close Japan could feel the other nation's breath on his lips, warm and soft. It took every ounce of self-restraint he had not to lean forward and close the distance between them.

"You're too cute, Japan," America murmured, before leaning forward and pressing his lips to the smaller nation's. Japan's eyes were comically wide, before they softened and he allowed them to close. America's lips were warm against his own as they began to move tentatively. Japan gulped silently, reaching up and brushing America's drenched hair out of his face. America did the same, tenderly wiping a few dark strands off of Japan's forehead. The kiss ended and the two pulled away, Japan highly embarrassed, and America looking unusually bashful.

"Heh, I guess it's me that has to apologize for my behavior now," America laughed, letting his thumb slid across Japan's cheek.

"Oh, of course not!" Japan exclaimed a bit too quickly. "I-I highly enjoyed-I mean, I-I..."

"I know what you mean," America giggled, his blue eyes softening. Combined with the natural wonder of the rain and the silky blond of his hair framing his face, the effect on America's appearance was breathtaking. Japan felt butterflies flutter about in his stomach and looked down shyly. "You're really pretty when you're wet."

"E-Excuse me?" Japan asked, looking up, now more embarrassed than before. The other nation gave another laugh.

"Well, I-" America's voice halted and his softened eyes suddenly widened.

"A-America?" Japan asked, his embarrassment turning into concern and anxiety. The warmth of America's hands vanished from his neck and cheek as they lowered themselves. Japan followed their path and gasped as he witnessed them clutch over America's stomach, trails of red seeping from between his fingers. America looked down in slow disbelief at the forming wound, then back up at Japan, his shock now mixing with terror. Japan reached out and grasped America's shoulders tightly. "Oh, _Kami_, no!" Japan screamed, his fear returning ten fold. "America! America, stay with me!" America's expression grew weary as his knees began to tremble, blood trickling like the rain water, staining the white shirt beneath his bomber jacket and pooling around his boots to mingle with the innocent puddles of rain water.

"Ja...pan," he managed to whisper, before his quaking legs buckled and he fell to his knees. Japan followed after him, wrapping his arms around the wounded nation and holding him close, on the verge of tears. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't fair and far too cruel. After all Japan had been through to save America, after being kissed and knowing his feelings might truly be returned, whether they be love or just deep caring, this was too cruel.

"No, no, please stay with me! America, you have to stay awake!"

"They're...all...dead," America breathed. Japan felt America's body shudder once and then go horrifyingly limp.

~*~-~*~

"…And then Japan called me after Alfred collapsed and then we got him here where the doctors took care of him," Canada finished in a small voice, trying to look away from England's hostile glare. "…The end."

"And when did all this happen?" England demanded, looking like he wanted to practically leap out of the plastic hospital chair that Canada and Japan had forcefully pushed him into. Japan winced at England's loud accusation and tried to sink even deeper into his own chair.

Matthew looked away and muttered something that sounded like, "."

"_What_?"

"Iggy, don't blow up at Mattie!" America smiled weakly from his hospital bed, trying and failing to push himself up. Japan immediately leapt off his chair and pushed America back down into his pillows.

"Please don't get worked up," Japan said. "You're going to open your wounds again! It was bad enough when you decided to leap out of the hospital bed for some ice cream that England-san brought…"

America's eyes brightened at that. "Now _that_ was good ice cream! The best chocolate chip mint ice cream I ever had!"

"I'm _honored_," England said dryly. "Because you ate my share as well. But you can stop skirting around the question now. When did this happen again?"

America's face darkened, and Japan felt his hand being squeezed a little tighter than usual. "…Sometime after eleven at night. Why?" England's expression morphed from a pleasantly sarcastic one into a seemingly furious one. Japan watched as Canada winced from experience, presumably bracing himself for the explosion.

"_Then why was I not informed of this until after today's meeting_?!"

"Because we needed someone to tell us what happened at the world meeting, England-san," Japan said, trying his best to spare both Canada and America's heads. It didn't work. Well, perhaps it did in a sense, because Japan basically just drew red and white rings around his face and placed an apple on his head with that comment.

"Basically you mean that you three wanted to _skip_ the world meeting anyway, and you finally indulged on it after you found a reasonable excuse!" England's accusation made Canada and Japan wince.

"…Yes?" Canada whispered.

England's eye twitched as he finally relaxed and leaned back against the chair again, but he didn't say anything more.

"And besides, England-san, the doctors didn't really declare that he was stable until about four hours after, and by then it would have been insane to try and get over to Helsinki in time," Japan said, trying to keep as calm as he could. Of course, there was another reason why he didn't want to go to Finland's capital, but…

England's frown deepened at the mention of the city. He crossed his arms. "Gone."

It took a while for that word to sink in.

"G-Gone?" Canada was the first one to recover. "W-What's gone, England? Surely not Helsinki…"

"We didn't have a meeting today because Helsinki is burned to the ground and Finland is missing." England shuddered, losing his stony face. "Oh, you would never believe what they did to those poor children…it was nothing short of a nightmare. I don't think there's a single survivor from that city. And we all arrived there thinking it would be normal…"

"What happened?" America asked, his voice suddenly hoarse.

England's fingernails dug into his arm. "Mines. Someone planted mines under the largest buildings. And then we think that they actually bombed and torpedoed the city as well. All in all, trying to escape that city would have been impossible. We spent the time reserved for the World Meeting digging up bodies."

"That's impossible," Japan forced out. "People would surely notice if a _capital_ of all cities was being…being…"

"Maimed? Bombed?" England laughed bitterly. "That might have been the case, Japan, if the attacks had happened _one by one_."

Canada looked horrified. "No."

"Yes. All of the attacks were timed. Perfectly. The city literally blew up in front of our very eyes. And another disturbing fact. It was so fortunate that our airlines were slightly late, because if we had arrived on time, then _we would have been caught in the bombings_."

…

"The bombings were timed so that the nations would be caught in the middle," Japan whispered. "The killers…they wanted to commit a form of mass murder. They wanted…to completely wipe out all of the world in one go."

"Correct," England said miserably. A pause. "Sweden was one unhappy nation. And now, because of that, we've decided to stop holding World Meetings."

"But that's suicide!" Canada cried immediately, jumping out of his chair. "England, if they decide to stop having World Meetings, how are we supposed to exchange information? We're going to stop communicating to each other, and we won't know if one country's attacked."

"The risk is too great, Canada." England suddenly sounded like he was hundreds of years old…which he was. Japan remembered that he wasn't a normal human like he tried to act as at times. He immediately scolded himself for forgetting. "It'll just give the killers more chances to try and ambush us. And besides, if all of the world's countries are packed into one little room, it makes an amazingly tempting target. We can still exchange information with each other through the phone—we just won't be seeing too much of each other anymore."

"That's a retarded idea," America frowned. Japan blinked with surprise and turned to look at him. "We're basically dancing naked in front of the killers with little 'kill me' signs taped to our butts. And besides, we've _always_ had World Meetings. It's been like that for centuries, and it's not about to change now."

"_Times_ are changing, Alfred," England snapped back. "Nothing's going to be the same anymore! Nations are dying, our people are panicking—it's about time that we did something!"

"We are," America said, landing back on his pillows. He still looked as horrified as he did a few seconds ago. "But…_damn_, I…I just can't believe that anyone would have the guts to try and…just _kill_ everyone in one go like that! That's fucking insane! First Norway and Denmark vanish without so much as a trace, then Iceland shows up half-dead, and now Finland's been captured…don't you think they're favoring Scandinavia?"

"That and the world powers," Canada added. "Think about it, guys. America, China and Russia are now incapacitated. It's obvious they're trying to knock down the big countries and kill the smaller ones. Russia," Canada looked at England briefly then sighed. Japan knew what Canada was going for. Russia knew about the abuse, but what did that have to do with anything? Surely he wasn't suggesting that America had anything to do with Russia's coma? "Russia was knocked into a coma, China was harassed over the phone then attacked, Nussia, who was part of Russia was killed. All of America's states started vanishing about a year ago."

"Canada, that was classified!" Alfred whined. Canada gave an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, but we need as much information as we can get."

"Wait, wait, wait!" England demanded, crossing his arms. "America, your states started disappearing a _year _ago and you didn't tell anyone?"

"My boss wanted to keep it quiet," America said, face darkening, though not enough for England to really notice.

"Ah, the point is, the killers were obviously planning this for a long time!" Canada interrupted before England could work himself into another cursing fit.

"Obviously. They'd need countless resources to destroy even one capital, let alone how many they're destroying now," Japan added thoughtfully. "A year was when your states were disappearing. So Canada-san's theory about them targeting world powers makes sense."

_When you bury the body parts, make sure that you bury them deep! If you don't, a little puppy might come and dig it up…_

"That's not possible," England scolded. "If these killers are really targeting all of the world like they've proved so far, then they definitely wouldn't only stick to one area for a while. After all, I heard reports from Egypt that South Africa and a few others around there were found dead in their bedrooms." England paled significantly at this point—clearly Egypt didn't hold back the details.

_I'm just glad that you'd _never_ kill anyone, right Japan?_

"How about Australia? How's he doing?" Canada sounded desperate for news.

"He came to visit me yesterday," England said, frowning. "According to him, there's some unidentified aircraft flying just outside his borders. He said that they must have made at least twenty circles around his house before they flew away."

"Was it a UFO?" America asked eagerly.

England rolled his eyes.

"No, it's a simple question! Was it flying?"

"Wha—of course it was flying!"

"Was it an object?"

"Y-_Yes_…"

"And it was unidentified, right?"

"_Obviously_, because if we did know who—"

"So it's a UFO!" America laid back on his pillows, satisfied with his work. "One day, another fellow human being educated on this world. How awesome am I?" He sat there for a moment longer before he shot up again. "Wait, wait, wait! England, Aussie took a picture, right?! Tell me he took a picture! I always wanted to see a UFO!"

England, who had been trying to raise his voice above America's excited chatter, had to stand up and shout to be heard. "Unless UFOs can suddenly grow nuclear power plants and bomb Canberra, America, I highly doubt it was a UFO." Alfred actually looked surprised at this news, but his reaction was certainly not what England anticipated.

"Jesus that's horrible…Canada, we've got to watch out now. The aliens are sure to try and target us next! I mean, after all, since I'm basically an alien _hub_ of the world, they're going to go after me!" America dramatically landed a hand on Canada's shoulder. "Its okay, Mattie. You don't need to mourn me. Just remember me as a hero!"

England actually walked over and slammed his head against the wall.

"I don't think we have too much to worry about the aliens at the moment." Japan could tell that Canada was trying to sound pacifying. "I'm going to visit Cuba today, so I'll be sure to ask him if there were any attacks in South America…" Canada looked up. "But America…what are you going to do, now that all your states were murdered?"

America laughed bitterly. "Oh, Canada, as long as my capital's standing, I'm still alive. America doesn't go down that fast!" Canada gave him a look that was half exasperated, half admiring.

…_And when your love is being hurt, it's your job to protect them!_

Japan gulped.

_No matter what._

"A-America-kun, can I talk to you alone?"

The three blonds in the room looked at Japan with surprise for a few moments (confirming why they're blond—not brunette), before Canada seemed to get a slightly smug look. England looked from Canada to America to Japan, apparently completely oblivious as to why he had to leave. "Come on, England, let's give them some time alone!" Canada suddenly sounded too cheerful, and he actually jumped up and grabbed England's arm, towing the two out of the room. "Kuma, come!"

The small white bear looked at Canada with what seemed like pleading.

"Kumajirou, you're not _that_ much of a perv. Come!"

The polar bear cocked his head.

"_Kumajirou_, come!"

Japan thought the bear seemed to look like he was pouting.

"I'll let you watch Prussia and Hungary sneak around behind Austria's back if you come!"

Kumajirou seemed to ponder this deeply for a while before sighing and clambering off his chair, tottering out the door and down the hall to follow his master and the weird person that was always stalking his master.

Japan just then noticed that his face was flushed. Why oh _why_ did it seem like his fellow nations immediately jumped to the worst conclusions? He looked over at America to see him looking slightly sheepish. "Yeah…sorry about that…Canada _was_ raised by France, you know…"

Japan sighed. "I've just been reminded…"

"Wall anyway, what was it that you wanted to tell me?" America smiled innocently, his bright little aura flickering slightly only when he saw Japan's serious smile. "Aww, come on, it can't be that bad, can it?"

Japan sighed and tried to explain in a way that wouldn't scare America too badly. "Well, you know about Finland…?"

"Yeah, terrible thing too," America sighed dramatically, waving his free hand around in circles. "After all, I saw him just yesterday and everything. I don't see how he could have been kidnapped in such a short time! Tino's so _nice_ too, you know? Like he offered to go after Mr. Reynolds after he disappeared." Here America paused to wink at Japan. "But yeah, after all that, I _still_ don't see any good points about Finland being taken away! Maybe they just thought that…"

"America," Japan deadpanned. "Please, let me talk."

America froze and blinked a few times before laughing nervously. "Yeah, sorry about that. Go on." He then made a show of sitting up straighter and placing his free hand in his lap, his expression hardening as if he was prepared to receive news about some sort of war front. Japan sighed.

"Finland saw me."

"…Huh? Oh, yeah, of course he did! Didn't you guys see each other when you played that waiter dude and all that cra—"

"I mean he saw me kill Reynolds."

That got him to shut up.

America turned to look at Japan with a confused and surprise gaze. "…Shit," he finally whispered. When he noticed that Japan didn't seem to have any notions of taking back what he said, America slouched his back and covered his eyes with his hand. "_Shit_."

"Yes," Japan said dryly, "_Shit_."

America sighed again. "Now normally I'd hug the life out of you for cussing out loud, but I guess now wouldn't be a really good time." Japan nodded curtly, causing America to toss his head back, resting it against the pillows. "Well, damn. This is just getting even more confusing."

"Yes."

"I mean, seriously, if the killers kidnapped Finland, then that means that they don't _want _other people to know about the fact that you killed Mr. Reynolds. Which means that they wanted you to kill him in the first place." America frowned. "Hell. That means that we've already been played into some stupid scheme."

"Yes, which also means that I probably just did something that was completely and utterly irreversible."

"Nah, it's not '_I_', Kiku, it's '_we_'." America looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "_We_ did something stupid and reckless in killing Mr. Reynolds. But at least Mr. Bell is nicer." Alfred actually smiled. Okay, that proved it. That man had gone mad.

Japan merely closed his eyes and burrowed his face into the crook of America's arm. He really didn't want to think about things like this now. "Do you have any idea what's going on?" Kiku managed to mutter.

"Hell no. All I know is that I'm living through this nightmare."

"How can you be so sure?"

Even though he couldn't see his face, Kiku swore he could feel Alfred's smile. "Well, I wouldn't want to miss our wedding, now would I?"

…Korea was a dead man.

~*~-~*~

_"H-Hey, Japan…?"_

_"_Hello? Who is this? I'll have you know this is a private number."

_"Um, it's Canada." _

"Who? I'm sorry I don't--"

_"I'm America's brother." _

"Oh, I apologize Canada-san. Is something the matter?"

_"I…I didn't really want to bother you with this…but…I have to tell you something…it's…something important."_

"Really? What is it, then?"

_"Um…Japan…I…I think that something's wrong with Alfred."_

"…What do you mean?"

_"I…uh…I just don't think that he's acting a lot like…himself. I mean, he acts all…normal…on the surface, but I think that there's something he's keeping back."_

"And why do you think that?"

_"I…suppose it's just a twin's intuition…you know what, I'm really sorry for bothering you Japan. I guess that I really am getting paranoid. I'm sure that it's just nothing."_

"No, Canada-san, what do you think is wr—"

Dial tone.

~*~-~*~

China stared up at the light.

It was too bright. It made everything seem so clear. Why would people do things like that on purpose? Make everything so clear. Wasn't it better just to sit through life and look at it through a film? See everything blurry? Wouldn't that just make everything easier? No one would have to get hurt, because everything that seems sharp in clarity is just dull when it's blurred. Nothing hurts.

China shifted, making the paper cover on the hospital bed crinkle slightly. _Wait, what…?_

A soft click. Someone stepped into the room. China looked around slowly, not really wanting to see anything through this clarity.

Nussia.

It was Nussia.

"_Dobriy vecher, gē ge_." The white haired boy tilted his head, his violet eyes glinting dangerously as it caught the light. He was dressed in a single doctor's coat, the hem falling down past his knees and the collar dangling off one shoulder, a large stethoscope hanging off his neck. "I've been waiting for you."

China merely gaped at the boy. He tried to sit up, but he realized too late that his arms were chained to the bed. Pulling fervently at them, he gasped, "_V-Vladimir_. I…I thought that you…"

"Oh, China, you thought I died?" Nussia's brow crumpled with sadness as he took a step forward. China froze when he saw that there was a gigantic hole at the top of the small boy's head that would have dipped to about his eye level. The red inside seemed to be bubbling—shifting and staying out of clarity. "Of course I died, love, but I'll always be there for you when you need me…"

"I don't need you~aru!" China shouted, bringing his legs up close to his body as New Russia moved closer and closer to the bed. The small nation widened his eyes innocently and moved so his elbows were propped up on the bed, his chin resting on his intertwined fingers. China shuddered at his wide eyes and stuttered out, "Just get away~aru!"

"_Dàn shì, gē ge, ya ne sobirays prichinat tebe vred_," Nussia whispered innocently, leaning in even closer. Nussia's breath smelled strongly of blood and death, making China cringe away in disgust. "I just want to _help_ you, love."

"Don't call me that~aru! _Don't call me that_!"

"What, _love_?" Nussia's previously innocent smile turned into a darker one. "Oh dear, what Yellow is saying isn't actually _getting_ to you, now is it? After all, it's because of him that _I'm no longer alive_, right?" China shuddered and writhed on the table. He realized that he was completely naked.

"G-Get away~aru," he whispered in a considerably weaker voice. "Go away! Go away!"

"Oh, but I can't." Nussia actually sounded wistful as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand. "You see, though you might want me to leave, it's actually you that summoned me. After all, this is _your_ dream. If you want to leave, then you should be able to do it in an instant."

China looked at him for a few moments, stunned. Does that mean that he actually _wants_ Nussia around? That he actually _misses_ him? "I _want_ to get out of here right now~aru! I want to get out, but you're not letting me! Unlock these stupid chains~aru!"

"I can't touch those chains, _gē ge_," Vladimir said wistfully. "Because a part of your heart still _wishes_ to stay chained to the bed. A part of you is _happy_ to see me again. But then again, there is also a part of you that appears to be frightened of me." Nussia suddenly saddened. "Why are you frightened of me, big brother? What have I ever done wrong?"

Nussia's voice started taking on a haunting tone. China shuddered as his words suddenly started affecting him like Yellow's voice did, crawling into the smallest corners of his brain and expanding quickly like a cloud of poisonous gas. "Was it because I wasn't perfect? Was it because I wasn't big brother Russia? Was I too different? I tried, _gē ge_. I tried. But I couldn't be happy. _Gē ge_, there was nothing to be happy about."

"Stop it~aru," China said weakly. He twisted around in an effort to look away from Nussia, but all that met his gaze was something even worse. The window. Body parts and gruesome faces were stretched around outside, all of it floating in some sort of thick blood. It was almost as if the hospital room had suddenly been submerged in a vat of processed people. China, feeling bile rise in his throat, turned back towards Nussia.

The small boy smiled sickeningly, the few movements of his head causing the liquid-like substance in his skull to lurch around. "Oh, you saw," Nussia said conversationally. "Well, it's nothing important. Do you know who those people are, China?"

China refused to answer. Instead, he pressed his lips tighter in an attempt not to puke and started crying. He wanted to wake up. He didn't like this. At all.

"Those are all the people you killed, China," Vladimir said gently, almost as if he was trying to persuade China to take the blue pill instead of the red one. "Every one of them is outside, waiting for you to get better. All you have to do to escape from here is one thing."

"What?" China exploded. Without his hands, his tears dripped freely into his mouth, bringing a salty taste. "I'll do anything~aru! Just tell me what to do!"

"Oh my. Aren't we eager to leave," a voice chuckled from above China, making the nation freeze. "You know love, some would consider that being impolite to your hosts when they invite you over."

China recognized that voice.

Willing this nightmare to not get any worse, China looked up. Not straight up this time, but slightly back as well.

And as China thought, it was not a pillow that he was lying on. It was Yellow's lap. And it wasn't the wind from the air conditioner that was tugging at his hair—it was the killer's playful fingers. And most surprisingly, it seemed like the soft and melodic wailing that he thought came from the bodies floating outside actually came from Yellow's gentle and crooning lullaby that broke off abruptly when he was talking with his tortured.

"_Yellow_." China breathed.

China didn't really know what the killer looked like, so even in his dreams Yellow was surrounded by a fuzzy aura—with that feeling of the fact that you know what they look like, but the details were frustratingly kept out of your way, completely contrasting the rest of the clear room. However, there was one detail that China would remember long past the waking after his nightmare—how the killer's eyes crinkled.

"Good evening, love."

"Oh, Yellow, this is China. China, this is Yellow," Nussia said politely. "But of course you guys already know each other!"

"You're such a sweetie, Nussia," Yellow whispered, bending down and kissing China on the forehead. "Why don't you perform your task, and then China can leave this place." Nussia's grin grew. "After all, he seems _so_ eager to get away for some reason." And then, bending down to China's ear, the killer murmured, "_And get back to that cold, cruel reality_."

"Pleasure, sir!" Nussia laughed, ducking under the bed for something. China's eyes widened as he emerged…with a _chainsaw_. "Now _gē ge_, I hope you stay still! This'll only hurt more if you squirm…" Nussia smiled lovingly—a smile that should only belong on Ivan (But…he did look just like Ivan…) as he started the chainsaw.

China began screaming. "Hush, love, everything will be better soon," Yellow sang softly, nuzzling China's cheek. "You'll be able to see _everyone_ again after Nussia just performs a little diagnosis." China's wails grew in volume. Yellow sighed and covered China's mouth with his long fingers. "I'm sorry, Nussia, you can continue, right?"

"Of course, Yellow," Nussia giggled. He stood there at the foot of China's bed and clambered on, standing over him with the chainsaw pointed down. China tried to squirm away from the weapon, tears streaming down his face as he yelled for no one, biting down on the killer's hand. Yellow's grip didn't relent.

And then Nussia swung the chainsaw.

China's back arched in effort to try and get away, but the blade sliced cleanly between his ribs. It didn't hurt—nothing in a dream hurt, but China was forced to turn his head away at the window. Though it was a dream and his conscience might not have wanted him to see his insides, he wasn't going to risk it. China thought he saw an old, wizened hand beckoning at him from outside. China didn't dare turn the other direction—Yellow was biting down gently on his ear.

Nussia laughed from above China. "Oh, _gē ge_, it seems like you've got a problem…with your _heart_. But that's okay I have a cure for it!"

China forced himself to turn around just to see what Nussia was doing.

This was not a good dream. At all.

For Nussia was now wielding a needle. Filled with a neon green liquid. The small boy smiled innocently, staring down at China. "_Gē ge_, this is a poison! Since your heart is already so broken, the only way we can heal you is if we make it crumble completely! What do you say?"

China couldn't stand this any more. He closed his eyes, the tears still somehow managing to squeeze out. _I'm going to wake up soon~aru…I'm going to wake up soon~aru…_

And then suddenly, Yellow's voice was at his ear again. "Oh love, haven't you realized it yet?"

He could feel the tip of Nussia's needle pressing against the skin right above his heart.

"This dream…all of it…"

The needle slipped in.

"_Is_ your life."

The poison was flowing into his system.

"This is all you have, my lovely china doll."

Yellow bit down, hard, on Yao's ear.

China woke up.

He stared quietly at the moonlit ceiling above him. No gleaming light. No yellow mask hovering above him. No chainsaw, no needle. No Nussia. Everything…looked like a hospital should look. Quiet. Peaceful. Clean. China let himself breathe a small sigh of relief.

He pushed himself up slowly, turning to look out the window on his left. No bodies floating around—just a large, bright moon and a deep blue sky.

But then China spotted his reflection in the glass.

He checked it.

No…this couldn't happen. It was just a dream…right?

His left ear was bleeding.

_My lovely china doll_.

From…a bite mark.

It had been the only thing that hurt in the dream.

* * *

**(I'm going to ramble here, don't read if you don't want to. Skip down to the bottom though--new poll info.)**

**The return of Nussia! :D God I love that thing...and now you know his name too! Yaaay~**

**About his speech pattern--it's a mixture of Chinese and Russian. _Gē ge_, which you guys can often hear Nussia calling China, is Chinese for 'big brother'. Thanks to Vero for the translations--love you to death! **

**And interesting fact? When I was writing Nussia's torture scene, I actually put the _nation that is Yellow_ instead of 'Yellow'. Imagine my heart attack when I almost released the killer for you guys! But no, I caught it in time~ XD Sorry. (Well...maybe I forgot one...O.O I dunno.)**

**Okay! Mentions shall nao begin ~ Thunderstorm101, Eraty, Chirmling, Hello-Kitty-Hayley, SargentPepper64, SparkleMuffin, LupinandHarry, Furi, Verocat, koholint, AikoujOi, I Brake For Bishounen Boys, ninjafox369, yoru, Plumville Amy, greenpanic6, Lochesh, dragoneian, OrangeHue, , Necromancer Staff, randomlvr1, Maxki, xYukii, EmoLollipop, Tobi- That's What They Call Me, MinnieLuna, Holly Lawliet, AzAx, AnimeDutchess, SheWhoRunzWithScissors, Victoria Wan, AnimeSoul17, Miss Chelle, hurleysuki, spocketlaine, VioTanequil, mankinfan (Mankin! :D), Hiroshi-kun31, WOKgeotobi, PuppetMasterPuppet, and...**

**luffyluffy****!**

**And yes, there is a new poll up! It is 'Which killer do you want to see die?' Basically, which one is your least favorite. XD**

**Well, ciaosies~**

**Lucky**


	21. Groperunge

**I CAN EXPLAIN!!**

**...Well no I can't. Okay guys, I am so sorry that it's been about a month since I last updated. Let's just say that I had a little problem with one certain scene, which ended with Angel having to write it. T^T**

**Okay well I'm not gonna stand here any longer and hold you guys back any longer! Enjoy! :3**

**Disclaimer: We. Do. Not. Own. Hetalia.**

**(WARNING: Extreme gore and length. Read at your own risk.)  
**

* * *

Cuba thought of himself as having a very…nonchalant sort of personality.

He did what was needed to be done, he ignored what people wanted him to ignore, and he preferred coasting along in the middle instead of hopping forward and stealing the spotlight. (coughAmericacough) He figured he viewed the world with in optimistic sort of way, and was open with his feelings and thoughts.

Therefore the attacks on the nations (he _wouldn't_ use the word 'killings') that were going on as of late were leaving Cuba feeling…confused? Was that the word? Or maybe it was…curious? After all, it really contradicted everything he stood for.

He _wanted_ to ignore the attacks, but that was hard, considering his people were in a state of wide panic. He _wanted_ to do something to help out the situation, but he openly admitted he had no specialties in deduction that would make Italy, Japan, or even Germany, for that matter, consider having him on board. He _would_ have liked to stay out of the attention, but the smaller island nations were starting to turn heads. After all, there hadn't been a single one of them attacked yet, right? Maybe all of the attackers were smaller nations who only wanted to be respected. (Of course, Sealand hadn't helped in proving said nations innocent—he proclaimed he would rise 'again' after all of the other nations fell, bless him.)

Yet, it was hard to be optimistic after hearing that America…_America_ of all countries, had lost all of his states.

Cuba himself wasn't really too fond of America. Okay, he thought that America would be better off not existing. After all, all that baboon of a country ever really excelled in was between the lines of being annoying and butting into someone—sorry, _everyone_—else's business.

Despite the common knowledge America was such an ass, Cuba had to admit that the glob of hamburger induced fat was strong. Really, really strong. Cuba might have been nonchalant, and he might have hated America with all the passion of a teenage lover, but he wasn't ignorant. It was quite obvious only someone unbelievably powerful would be able to take out America's states.

But putting himself aside, there was someone else that he was rather worried about.

Canada.

You see, despite contrary belief, Cuba cared for Canada more like a brother rather than a lover. Cuba guessed it was because of how the Canadian acted—how he was so shy about every passing thing and was so eager to please—that pushed Cuba into unofficially taking Canada in as his own. He didn't feel the need to be like England or France and flaunt his ownership—he simply sat down with the boy when he needed to talk, often offering ice cream, maple syrup (and in most cases, ice cream _with_ maple syrup), and a listening ear.

Therefore, Cuba was very, very, _very_ worried about Canada, because it was only common knowledge Canada was to the south…or was it the north…of America. Meaning if America was being attacked…well, one thing Canada had pointed out once was that he shared the longest undefended border with America.

Not a good idea in a time like this.

Still, Canada, despite looks, was stubborn, and he stood firmly on the topic of closing the border with America. _I would trust America with my life_, Canada once said confidently. _And I'm sure that he would too. We're brothers, Cuba, and we can protect each other! There's nothing you have to worry about._

Of course that statement didn't make Cuba particularly happy—he didn't like admitting _America_ of all countries had more of Canada's trust than he did...but he wouldn't dwell on it.

Too much.

Cuba sighed, not used to the whirling emotions in his head, and snuffed out his cigar on the windowsill. At least Canada had agreed to visit him after that World Meeting, even if it was only for one day in a month. After America's mental meltdown last time, Cuba didn't bother going to the World Meetings these days because nothing ever got done (_not _because seeing that ignoramus of a nation screaming in terror was at all frightening) So, because America losing his marbles was the furthest thing from scary Cuba could possibly imagine, now meetings were going to even worse because not only would nothing get done, _but_ everyone would be looking around suspiciously, not trusting a single nation they didn't know well.

Then, of course, there were the ex-Axis running around and making a big deal of...well, a big deal. However, Cuba thought (and he was pretty sure most countries backed him up on this) that those three were making nations even _more_ panicked if anything else. If _they_ hadn't been there fueling the fire, then at the very least there would be no one running around screaming,

_"Oh Lordy Lordy, that Green attacked another person and here, look at that sequin! He thinks that he came in through the **chimney** this time and, look at what he was wearing! A red cap and a red suit that stole their whipped cream..."_

No, those three were most definitely _not_ helping.

Now if Cuba was feeling queer enough to think of _America's_ culture in this time of need...well then. This world really _was_ coming to an end.

Yet at the present moment, the only thing capable of disturbing Cuba's useless fretting was a certain blond who was currently slinking up the walk. Cuba sat up quickly, dropping his cigar in haste. He was prepared to lunge and attack the bastard, but mentally slapped himself when he remembered Canada was the one visiting him today, not his arrogant older brother. Hey, it wasn't his fault they were nearly identical.

The younger North American twin didn't look happy. Maybe some bad news came in during the World Meeting? Damn, if that did happen, then he should have been there! To support Canada if nothing else. As Cuba thought the name, Canada looked up as if he had been called and forced a smile.

"Hey, Cuba, what's up?" The other country's pained smile fell quickly when he saw the cigar lying on the windowsill and Cuba hastily patting himself down. "You...weren't smoking again, were you?"

"Hell no."

"_Cuba..._"

"...I meant yes."

Another sigh. "Cuba, didn't I tell you before that research shows how smoking gives you lung disease, heart disease—"

"And a shitload of other diseases. Yeah, I think you mighta' mentioned it before." Canada grinned at that.

"Are you going to let me in, or will I have to stand out here all day? Noon's coming, and I don't want to be out in the sun the entire time."

Cuba smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Tch, sorry, totally forgot that. Manners, huh? And 'ya gotta keep that complexion of your's or America'll think you've been off spray tannin'...hold on, let me get that door for 'ya."

Cuba dashed off for the hallway, sliding on the small decorative carpet that covered his tan floorboards. He grabbed a corner of a wall, pivoting quickly, and threw open the door before Canada even got there. The blond country blinked, and then laughed.

"God, Cuba, I swear you're going to break your neck sliding around that floor bare-footed all day long." Cuba merely shrugged, letting Canada slide past him and into the house.

"It's worse with socks, believe me," Cuba said cheerfully, as if breaking his neck was on his to-do list anyway. "And toss off those shoes! It's too hot to be waltzin' around in a parka."

Canada shot Cuba a bemused expression before shaking off his shoes. "Only you would think that a suit was a parka."

Cuba swept a fake bow. "Which is why I show up in a shirt and some shorts." Correction. He always showed up in one of those gigantic flowered Hawaiian shirts, cargo shorts torn and tattered from his last playful fight with the Dominican Republic, and a large Cuban cigar that made the Europeans look on with slight disgust, though they didn't exactly have a clean record themselves.

"And once with a monkey on your shoulder." Cuba blinked. How could he forget Viva? The monkey, who had then been a baby, had sat on his shoulder like a parrot the entire meeting and had balled and tossed papers at Germany whenever he tried to speak. Of course that ended up with Viva chucking a very well aimed one into Ludwig's mouth, but we won't go there...

"Yup! Viva's my pride and joy." Cuba tilted his head back so that he called up the stairs. "Viva! Come!"

Like a dog, the orangutan Indonesia had politely given Cuba for his birthday charged down the stairs and right onto Cuba's shoulder, making him stagger a little under the weight. Canada looked worriedly at the large primate.

"Well...he's gotten...big, hasn't he?"

"As big as a bike and as fat as a bear," Cuba said happily. At the word bear, Kumajirou popped his head up from Canada's arms. Viva leaned forward curiously, making Cuba stumble a bit. Apparently the monkey had never seen a polar bear before. "Easy there, boy!"

"Who?"

"That's Viva, Kuma," Canada said, setting the bear down and prodding him forward with his finger. "Go say hi."

Kumajirou tottered forward cautiously. Cuba smirked as Viva jumped down and practically leaped at the bear, poking him violently in the forehead. Kumajirou gracelessly topped onto the ground and wobbled a little bit before he finally managed to sit up and simply stare at the monkey. "Viva! Apologize!" Cuba barked immediately.

Viva apologized by leaning across and planting a kiss smack on Kumajirou's lips.

Canada burst out laughing as the polar bear drew back with disgust and rubbed furiously at his mouth with the back of his paw. Viva seemed to be laughing too in a loud, obnoxious barking way. "_Viva_!" The orangutan only waved his hand dismissively.

"It's fine, Juan," Canada said, smiling. "Kumajirou doesn't mind, do you?" The bear looked up at his master with an expression conveying, _You have got to be fucking kidding me_. Canada sighed, scooping up Kumajirou in his arms. "Ignore him. He just hadn't had his maple syrup yet."

"Oh, completely forgot 'bout that," Cuba said, smacking his forehead. "Sorry, dude. Ice cream's in the fridge, maple syrup's in the third cupboard to the left. I want three scoops."

Canada nodded, his expression returning to its previous troubled appearance as he turned. Seeing it, Cuba felt his natural brotherly instincts kick in and he reached out a hand to stop the other nation.

"Hey, you don't look so good," he noted. "Are you okay?" Canada gave a shaky grin, brushing Cuba's hand off of his shoulder.

"Yes, I'm okay." Cuba gave him a doubtful look, crossing his arms. At Cuba's obvious disbelief, Canada's smile promptly disappeared and he visibly paled.

"I can tell you're not. Did something happen at the World Meeting?" Cuba ventured.

"Yeah," Canada sighed, his shoulders slumping in apparent exhaustion. "We're not having them anymore."

"What!?" Cuba cried in alarm. Sure, he had recently decided to stop attending the meetings himself, but to have them cease altogether was unheard of. "Who decided this?"

"Everyone," Canada informed. "It was a unanimous decision. Every nation in the world stuffed into one room was considered too tempting of a target." Cuba whistled and rubbed the back of his head.

"Wow, this is gettin' serious, huh?"

"I'm really scared, Cuba," Canada whispered, tightening his hold on Kumajirou. Cuba knelt down in order to usher Viva off of his shoulder and stood closer to his distressed visitor. He tried to give Canada a soothing look, but it had no affect.

"Hey, you can tell me anything, ya know?" Cuba reminded. "I'm starting to get concerned for you." At Cuba's anxious tone, Canada's eyes began to shimmer with unshed tears and his lips quivered.

"C-Cuba, I," he whimpered, his voice cutting off as he bit his lower lip to keep from breaking down. "I didn't go to the World Meeting, but..." he trailed off, he looked down at the top of Kumajirou's head. Cuba reached out and placed both hands on Canada's shoulders in attempts to comfort him.

"You went to see your brother, right?" he assumed. Viva tilted his head curiously, scratching the side of it as if he too were wondering the same thing.

"Yes," Canada confirmed, closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath. "H-He told me something." Cuba frowned, anger leaking into his concern. What did that bastard tell Canada to make him seem so scared?

"What did he tell you?"

"I..." Canada trailed off again and gulped, his throat shifting with the effort. "I...shouldn't tell you. I shouldn't drag you into this, but I'm scared." Canada opened his eyes and they were wide with unspoken terror. "Please don't hate me, but I can't keep this to myself! Please, Cuba, please forgive me!"

"H-Hey, calm down!" Cuba commanded, giving Canada a slight shake to stop him from going completely hysterical. "Just tell me what America told you." Canada's eyes spilled over and he shook his head wildly.

"J-Japan killed America's boss!" He broke down completely after this. "He murdered Mr. Reynolds and Finland saw!"

"Finland?" Cuba repeated. Canada nodded, completely miserable. "H-He disappeared, though!" Cuba cried.

"He disappeared the very same night he witnessed it," Canada murmured, eyes still wide and quaking in their sockets.

"So, is Japan one of the killers?"

"I-I don't know," Canada answered softly. "I don't know. All I know is that Finland vanished because he knew, and now you and I know." Canada closed his eyes again and shivered. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Cuba reassured, pulling Canada into an awkward embrace. "We aren't gonna disappear." Cuba never felt so angry in all his life. How dare America be so selfish as to burden his younger brother with such information? If Cuba had his way, he'd fly over to the hospital and smother America with his pillow. Canada didn't deserve this and Cuba stepped back to look into the distressed nation's eyes. "Look, why don't we go into the kitchen and get some ice cream?" This got Canada to smile. It was lopsided and hardly there, but there, and that was enough for Cuba.

"O-Okay," Canada agreed. He was about to turn, but stopped himself, guilt making its way onto his face. "Hey, Cuba?"

"Ya?"

"I-I'm really sorry for snapping at you the other day." The blond country looked down at his feet. Cuba felt his lips curl into a half-smile as he rolled his eyes.

"Since when is whispering at someone considered snapping?" Canada let out a weak chuckle that sounded a tad hysterical.

"All the same." His eyes were becoming a little less frightened.

"Pfft, it's over with, just get me my three scoops!"

"Yeah, yeah," Canada laughed quietly. Viva peeled his lips back and gave an apish grin. Canada stared awkwardly at the gigantic monkey as he walked towards the kitchen. Kumajirou, however, peeked his head over Canada's shoulder.

"Who?" he asked as both he and his master rounded the corner and into the kitchen.

Cuba grinned and playfully shoved Viva once Canada was out of earshot. "Now you're a fucked up monkey, aren't 'ya? I saw you eyein' that bear as if you wanted to sleep with him." Viva seemed to widen his eyes, almost as if he were saying,

_I don't know what you're talking about_. Cuba cuffed him lightly on the side of the head.

"You know exactly what I'm talkin' about, ya' cheeky little bastard." Viva smiled widely, his eyes closing, as if proving how innocent he was. "Viva, go on," Cuba chuckled. "Flail 'round the yard or sometin'. And!" The orangutan turned around as he was walking down the hall. "You're not gettin' that bear on my watch!" Viva seemed to roll his eyes, flashing a thumbs up as he continued to saunter down the hall, where he opened a door, running outside. Cuba chuckled and closed the front door. Yet, as soon as his pet was out of sight, Cuba felt his chest tighten with something only comparable to dread. Breathing slowly, he followed Canada into the kitchen, a sense of doom looming overhead.

~*~-~*~

"Japan, you need to get out of this hospital."

The said nation clenched his jaw.

"Really, I don't think you spend enough time in civilization anymore. You're probably becoming more paranoid as I speak."

"Too late for that," Japan said stiffly.

"_Kiku_, stop talking as if your life already ended." America jerked playfully on Japan's sleeve and then grabbed his hand. Japan didn't smile. "Lighten up a little bit, darlin'! I'll be out of here soon, and then everything will be back to normal!"

Japan looked down moodily at his empty Styrofoam cup of black coffee and crumpled it, tossing the useless garbage into the trash can conveniently located by the door. America winced and stared at the blue bin longer than necessary before turning to look at Japan with a firmer resolve. "You need sleep more than Russia needs to wake up."

Japan shot America a glare through his slightly bloodshot eyes, and for once, Alfred shut up. None of the East Asian nations ever warned him about Japan's sheer determination which only increased the more sleep he lacked. So, considering Japan had now gone two days straight without laying down even once, that sheer determination was now coupled with a horribly foul mood.

"I'm staying here until you're well enough to stand up straight without screaming," Japan said stubbornly. He reached for America's bed stand with his free hand to grab another cup of coffee perched on a stack of perverted books France had sent specifically for 'light reading'. Screw that.

"_I_ didn't scream." America's eyes widened with innocence. "A _hero_ doesn't scream. It was a battle cry."

"A battle cry of pain," Japan said emotionlessly, taking a swig of the cup. "Do me a favor and help me understand _why _exactly you tried to stand up, especially since under human standards you would be missing all of your organs. _America no baka_." Kiku muttered the last bit murderously at his cup. Alfred looked at him with worry (and slight fear). He laughed weakly.

"You know, darlin', you without sleep reminds me a little of when England's drunk. I only stood up because I wanted to see China."

"Why?" Japan glared at France's books as if they had done him some personal injustice. He upended the rest of his coffee on them, staining the hot pink covers.

"Jeeze, Japan, be careful!" America cried, grabbing the sopping wet books and placing them on the windowsill so they could drip without giving the nurses something extra to clean up. "I just wanted to see if China was okay. Taiwan told me that you guys still couldn't get a word out of him."

"No, none of us have," Japan confirmed, glowering bitterly as he recalled his first and only visit to China. Guilt boiled in his stomach like brew in a cauldron, for he knew that while he sat here with America, Hong Kong, Taiwan and Korea needed him. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to face his younger siblings, to watch them look into China's dead, glazed eyes, talk to him, and fool themselves into believing he could actually hear. Though, Japan noticed with increasing disdain, Korea was beginning to realize China was truly mentally shot, and was of course, blaming Russia.

Therefore it was mildly surprising Korea had expressed his unwavering approval of Japan's decision to pursue a tentative relationship with America. No, Korea's anger was completely pinned on Russia. Perhaps it was the regrettably cruel treatment Japan had put his younger brother through that allowed Korea to let _him_ go, but _China_ was Korea's everything. Their eldest brother's emotional breakdown was completely rooted in Russia's attack, and Japan knew it _infuriated_ Korea.

America tilted his head at Japan's solemness, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"You know, you should go see him again. He might like that."

"As I've said before, he didn't register any of us were even in the room," Japan murmured.

"Still, your family needs you right now, and though I'd love to have you for myself, I think Korea's starting to--"

"Can we not talk about this?" Japan interrupted, looking down at his and America's intertwined fingers.

"But--"

"Please. I…I can't face them right now." The guilt and shame at his admittance to his weakness pierced his heart like a dagger. It was dishonorable, cowardly, but true. After all the pain he had caused his family in the past, and his failure to get China to react at all during his initial visit after Nussia's murder, he felt as if he betrayed them all over again. "I…I just want to be with you now." America opened his mouth to protest, thought better of it, and closed it again without a word. Instead he let out a sigh and changed the subject, much to Japan's gratefulness.

"Darlin', if you keep on pouring that coffee, Lithuania's gonna be sad. The nurses told me that he and Poland sent over about five gigantic jugs full of it when they heard you were pulling three all-nighters in a row."

"Tell them that I'm thankful." Japan looked into his cup, and with an afterthought added, "Shit. Now I'm out."

America rolled his eyes.

"Go on, Kiku. It worries me that you're not getting any sleep, and breathing all this dead people air probably isn't healthy either."

Japan looked at America with an exasperated glare.

"The people here aren't dead, Alfred. They might be maimed and unconscious, but they're not dead."

Just then, a gurney was wheeled by, a blanket covering the body on top. A grim nurse was pushing it, muttering to another, "He flat-lined."

America looked pointedly at Japan.

"It happens," Japan said simply, shrugging. Under normal circumstances, he would have at least bowed his head in a moment of respect and silence, but the lack of decent shuteye made Japan uncharacteristically apathetic. He was about to tilt his head back to down another round of coffee, but stopped when he felt a hand gently take his wrist to stop the cup's journey.

"Kiku, really, I appreciate your worry, but right now it's you I'm worried about," America said gently. "You're very important to me and you've been through a lot. Besides, you've already done so much for me..." America looked to the side, his eyes softening. "More than I could ever repay you for, but I'm worried about you. Not even Canada stays this long." Japan tsked and rolled his exhausted eyes.

"I'm fine, _America-kun_." He added the honorific as a chide, but America appeared not to notice and merely continued.

"Plus you have your people to worry about."

"No need to concern yourself with that. Surprisingly, everything at my house has been relatively quiet. There's nothing my boss can't handle on his own," Japan assured, looking down at the untouched coffee. "My people have never been so thankful to be such an isolated island." America gave gentle smile.

"I never thought I'd be so thankful for that too."

"What do you mean by that?" Japan asked, his tone slightly wary. America removed the hand around Japan's wrist to twine their fingers together.

"I don't know what I'd do if something ever happened to you," America said. "Not only because we're..._you know_...but because we've been friends for a long time." Japan blew through his lips and returned America's hold.

"I know." Japan stared blankly out the open window for a moment, trying to keep himself awake, before letting out a small gasp as America leaned forward and let his forehead rest on the smaller nation's chest.

"I'm so happy I met you."

"_B-Baka_," Japan stuttered, feeling his cheeks heat up. "If you keep jolting around like this, you're going to reopen the wound on your stomach." Despite his warning, Japan put his coffee on the bed stand nearby and wrapped his arms around America's shoulders, drawing him closer. He sat down on the edge of the bed and let his cheek rest on top of the other country's head. Japan finally allowed his heavy eyelids to close, and buried his face in the silky blond hair. His muscles relaxed against the warmth of America's body and he let out a sigh. Already he felt himself drifting away, the caffeine finally overpowered by two days of no sleep.

However, just as he was about to nudge America backwards so they could lay down, a quiet and unfamiliar voice rose from nearby and asked,

"I'm going to die, aren't I?"

Japan's eyes snapped open and he pulled back to see America's expression: a mix of sorrow and fear. The cheer and optimism that had been present for the past three days was gone, and it broke Japan's heart. "I don't want to die," America whispered, eyes dull just as they had been when Reynolds was still alive, hunkering over his shoulder.

"Alfred," Japan began, letting his hand rest against the other nation's cheek. He wasn't sure what to say and his mouth remained uselessly still. After a few seconds, America's expressionless stare became too painful to look at and Japan turned his gaze down at the sheets. Guilt overtook him at not being able to meet America's eye, and he allowed his thumb to tenderly brush the other nation's cheek as an apology. Suddenly there was a small laugh and Japan looked up to see America smiling again.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, leaning into Japan's touch.

"Oh, no America, it's fine." America shook his head, taking Japan's face in his hands.

"No, it's not." He leaned forward again and let their foreheads touch, closing his eyes blissfully. "You saved me, and now I'm going to protect you, okay?" Japan felt his heart twist painfully at America's incurable heroism. How was he supposed to be protected by someone who couldn't even stand up? No, _he_ was going to be the one to protect _America_. Japan had assigned himself the job the very moment he decided to kill Reynolds and now he was more determined than ever to see it through.

Still, Japan didn't correct him, knowing that doing so would be cruel, and merely brought America into another embrace.

"I know you will," was all he said. "Please don't push yourself, though. I'm worried for you too." He heard America chuckle gently, then felt the other nation's lips press against his cheek. They sat back away from each other, America's bright grin back on his face.

"Please! I'm the hero! I can't be the damsel in distress for much longer, it's not good for my image, 'ya know?"

"Of course not, and as I've said before, I'm sure you'll protect me gallantly." Japan gave another rare smile, which around America were becoming increasingly less rare, and shook his head. "There is something I want to ask you though," Japan began, his smile fading. Sensing Japan's anxiety and seeing his expression darken, America's grin also slipped.

"What is it?"

"Where are you going to live when you get out?" Japan felt a shameful flush creep up the back of his neck.

"Oh...um," America faltered, clearly bewildered. "Well...I...um...I guess I could bunk up with Canada....I mean, 'cause there's no way in hell I'd live with England."

"Well...you could," Japan supplied unhelpfully, rubbing the back of his head.

"Yeah, but he's got a lot of stuff to do and I don't want to...you know, bother him...and...stuff." America began to twiddle his thumbs uncomfortably.

"You know, we've been friends for awhile," Japan began, looking up at the ceiling. "And now that I assume we're...an item..." he trailed off, thoroughly embarrassed with himself and his lack of a better term. English was certainly not his first language, but surely he could have found a better way to say they were...dating. Why couldn't he just say it?

"Do you want me to live with you?" America asked, blinking in disbelief. Japan let his hands ball into fists, feeling utterly mortified. America was a lot smarter than others gave him credit for, especially when humiliation of the other party was the result.

"Yes," Japan admitted. "Of course, that's only if you wish to!" he added hastily. "I-I'm...a bit isolated." He looked down at his hands again, gulping lightly. America tilted his head to the side and gave a disbelieving laugh.

"You've already done so much for me," he sighed. "But if you'll have me." Japan looked up, trying his hardest to keep his face expressionless. However, the hope and excitement surging through him was proving hard to squander.

"It would be my honor if you took residence with me until your house is safe to return to!" Japan insisted, bowing lightly. America laughed again.

"Okay, okay, just stop with the bowing, you know it makes me nervous, darlin'."

"_Gomen_, America."

"No need to be sorry, but I promise to help out. I'm not a freeloader," America reminded, crossing his arms and laying back on his pillows.

"It will be nice to have company," Japan said. He felt...happy. It was such an alien feeling, but one he strangely enjoyed. America was coming to live with him. "Oh, but I have to get it ready before you arrive."

"Remember what I said about stressing yourself out," America reminded. "I really do worry about you, Kiku. Since I'm not on top of my game as of yet, you don't really have anyone to protect you."

"I plan on coming back," Japan reminded. America touched his cheek again.

"Just be careful, okay?" Japan nodded and looked into America's eyes. It was brief, so much so it might have been a trick of the light, but Japan thought for sure he saw America's face darken, almost dangerously.

"What is it?" Japan asked, suddenly concerned. Had he done something wrong? America blinked in confusion and gave a small half-smile. It was hard to believe only seconds ago he seemed so...angry.

"What are you talking about, Japan?"

"You looked...sad," he replied softly. Japan decided to lie and pretend to mistake the anger he saw, not wanting America to think he was interrogating him.

"Oh, well...I just," America bit his lip and frowned, resigning himself into admitting something was on his mind. "Are you sure Greece won't mind?" Now it was Japan's turn to look confused. Why would America think of something like that? Of course he and Greece had a past relationship, but that certainly didn't mean Greece wanted Japan to be alone for the rest of his life.

"Why would he?"

"Oh, well you guys were together awhile ago, and I saw him talking to you at the World Meeting. I mean, Greece is always pretty laid back, but I don't want him to feel, you know, weird or anything." At the last word, America's voice softened almost menacingly. Japan merely shook his head and ignored it. He was just paranoid.

"He's perfectly fine with it. Actually, he was the one who encouraged me to pursue a relationship with you," Japan informed.

"Really?" America questioned, tone shocked. However, his eyes were sharp, a spark of something deadly within the apparent awe. "Wow, remind me to shake his hand next time I see him."

"Will do," Japan confirmed, rubbing his eyes. He really did need some sleep if he was imagining death rays coming form America of all nations. "In the meantime, I'll go and ready my house. Are you sure you'll be okay?" America nodded, giving a hum in confirmation.

"I told you, I won't wilt away just because you're not here, and besides, I'm sure Germany and Italy are starting to wonder where you've been."

"They were at Hong Kong's house investigating Nussia's murder while I took care of Reynolds," Japan said. "I'm not sure where they are now, but I have to admit that they're lack of calling certainly has me concerned." America clearly became worried at this.

"You mean, they haven't called to let you know how it went?"

"No," Japan answered, even through the exhausted haze, now that he really thought about it, Germany and Italy not once calling him since his endeavor was definitely alarming. "They haven't."

"You don't think something happened to them, right?" America asked, his tone becoming alarmed. "Rome is in shambles. Italy shouldn't be running around anyway. Especially not so soon after Romano and Spain were killed. I mean, even with all my super awesome strength I know I wouldn't be able to do _half_ the things Italy's been doing if I lost Canada." The other nation felt all the color drain from his face. Twin nations needed each other even if they weren't strongly connected, and Italy losing Romano had to be affecting him more than he let on. Japan's excitement about America choosing to stay with him after he recovered was quickly overtaken by panic and fear. Why didn't he realize it sooner? It wasn't like Germany to not call, especially if he expected Japan to meet he and Italy afterward. Something had to have gone wrong. Japan had just been too busy hovering and worrying over America to notice.

"I have to go!" Japan declared. "Italy and Germany might be in trouble!" He leaned down and gave America a quick kiss before turning and bolting out of the room. "I'll call you later!"

"Be safe," America murmured after him.

Little did Japan know that as soon as he left the room, America swung his legs over the edge of the bed, face darkening as his eyes narrowed gravely.

~*~-~*~

Germany looked around Taiwan and Hong Kong's house, partially not believing that he was actually standing there in the hallway. It felt like he stepped back in time, almost like stepping back to where it was normal to ride around on horses and burn witches at the stake. (England, of course, arguing back that there were white witches who helped nurse his unicorn back to health...)

The walls were painted a warm shade of red with brown, making the interior feel like it was almost emanating heat and giving the entire place a homely feel. Ludwig walked tenderly on the carpet on his tiptoes, staying far away from the large porcelain vases that a careless sweep of his hand could accidentally knock over. Italy, however, was striding through the corridor with purpose.

"Can you really believe that a killing happened here not long ago?" Ludwig felt the need to mutter quietly. The place felt almost sacred, with the air of no one stepping foot in the house for a long time. Speaking loud would have condemned you to hell.

Obviously Italy didn't feel the same, for he brandished his magnifying glass, narrowly missing a ivory carving, and spoke in his normally excited voice. "Oh Germany, haven't you noticed by now that they try and hide as much of the evidence as possible? Someone's been here."

Germany, naturally, was confused.

Again.

"Of course someone's been here, Italy," Germany said, taking longer strides to keep up with the small brunette. He didn't recall Italy moving that fast in their training. "When Hong Kong received that call from China, of course he ran as fast as he could over here with Taiwan. They probably picked up a bit after the others carried away Nussia's body." Germany automatically cringed at the word _body_. It sounded so morbid.

"Nope, _Doitsu_." Italy began swinging his arms as if he was taking a stroll down a sunlit path. "Someone was here _after_ New Russia's murder. Didn't you see the dirt that had been clotted by the door? Mud must've gotten off the killer's boots when they came back to check on the house to erase evidence."

Germany frowned. "Boots? So you think the nation didn't even try to stay out of the way?"

Italy shrugged, popping open one door after another in the hallway. All of the rooms were empty. He gestured in one. "No one would have been in the house. They didn't have any reason to hide."

"Yes, but—," Germany lunged forward to save a small clay figurine that Italy had accidentally bumped against. He set it back on it's pedestal and then quickly strode forward to catch up. "I thought the point of the killer coming was to erase evidence! Not make more." Italy stopped then and then turned around.

Germany was shocked to see him pale.

"The killer did leave a lot of evidence, didn't he?" Italy's eyes were wide. He looked around as if he was just then taking in all of his surroundings. "_Merde_." And with that, Italy took off.

"Italy?! Italy?!" Germany stood in shock for two minuets and then promptly followed as fast as he could down the hall in Italy's direction. "Feliciano! Slow down!" Germany didn't notice his boots pounding loudly into the ground—he only payed attention to Italy's curl, which seemed to almost beckon him as they rounded one corner and then another.

Italy suddenly stopped, causing Germany to almost crash into him and consequently into the box that seemed to be placed on a pedestal. Germany spotted broken porcelain shards around him and guessed that the killer smashed the ornament on that stand and replaced it with that single mahogany box. He started reaching for it, but Italy's hand darted out faster.

The clasp came undone and the top creaked open before Germany could even protest that it might be dangerous. However, it seemed like the inside contained nothing that would have been of immediate interest—it was simply a single cream-colored slip of paper set in lush red satin. Italy didn't hesitate plucking it out of the box. Germany frowned, looking over the smaller nation's shoulder to read it.

_To Italy and Germany_ the front said simply. Italy didn't even bother looking at that closer and instead turned it over quickly.

_If you're reading this, then I suppose that you two are as strong-willed as I thought. Congratulations for remembering the single place that everyone forgot to look at closely—the scene of Vladimir M. Braginsky's death. Of course I thought that you two would realize that there was something queer about this death that did not match the others. How brilliant you are. You have the full commemoration of the SLK._

_Now, I realize that you're here to do some investigating. Well, just for your benefit, I have rearranged the bathroom to look similar to what would have just happened moments after Vladimir's death. Go and enjoy yourselves, detectives. Just remember that everything is a courtesy from us, and that I'll be watching._

_But before you go, I have a warning to deliver. The next step that you make will determine many fates. So please, I'm cautioning you, think before you act._

_The bathroom is just down this hall. Good luck._

_Y_

Italy seemed to finish a mere moment later than Germany did. He threw the card on the ground at once and then dove forward at an even faster pace now. "Italy! Wait!" Germany looked as the brunette threw open the last door at the hall and disappeared inside. Heaving a sigh, Germany looked back down at the card that Italy dropped. He picked it up and pocketed it, thinking that they might be able to find something if they fingerprinted it.

He stood up.

And spotted a glimmer of silver.

Inside the box was a single key placed under the card. Ludwig stared at it for a moment before reaching into the box and picking it up. Attached to the key was a small string and another slip of paper.

_By the way, you might need this, Ludwig_.

Germany's blood ran cold. This key was placed so that it would only be visible after one person picked up the card. Y...Yellow, he supposed...knew that Italy would rush in and pick up the card first. Which meant that either no one noticed the key...or Germany was supposed to keep it. It was placed so the chances of Italy picking it up were slim to none. Germany turned the paper over.

_If you're reading this, then you've already lost. Shame._

He already lost...? What did that mean?

Germany looked down. A yellow sequin had fluttered down from the key.

~*~-~*~

Italy stared with disbelief at the walls around him.

Blood.

Blood was everywhere.

Italy took a tentative step forward. Blood was covering the four walls like some sort of shroud, bringing with it a disgusting and depressing smell. Italy covered his mouth with one hand as he worked through the semi-darkness. And then he spotted it. A white mop of hair in a corner.

For a moment, Italy truly believed that the white-haired boy was Nussia. Then, tripping and stumbling, as he got closer he realized it was actually a doll. The eyes looked like large gaping holes, and the mouth was stretched into an inhumanly long grin. Italy gave a startled cry and jumped back, right into a blood puddle. The Nussia-doll seemed to grin even wider.

"L-Ludwig?" Italy started feeling a little creeped out. He then realized that the lights were off. They must have already been turned off. Italy walked over to the window and opened the curtains for more light.

He froze.

Bars were placed around the outside of the bathroom windows.

Either used to keep someone out...

Or keep someone in.

"Ludwig? Ludwig!" Italy's voice grew as he ran over to the door, slipping slightly on the pools of blood. Italy's hand flailed forward, accidentally knocking the door shut.

_...Click._

Italy frowned. Was that the sound of a lock? He thought so. He tried to turn the doorknob, but it was stuck. Jammed.

With a keyhole in it

It was then that Italy realized that the door didn't look like your standard wooden door. It was one of those reinforced ones. Not the metal doors, mind you, but it was strong. Strong enough that it couldn't be broken or burned. Italy's hands shook.

And then he spotted it in the corner.

Another box.

Running over to it with haste, Italy crossed the room. He opened the box to see a card. _Italy_ was printed on one side. Hands trembling, Italy picked it up and turned it over.

_Oh dear. It seems like you charged in here without your partner. Had you known, you would have found that Germany had both the key out of this room and the solution to many of your questions. Now, it has become a test to see if the two partners are able to bail out one singe trapped nation._

_The rules are simple, Italy. Get out of the room. I hope you've already discovered that the windows are barred, and I don't suggest you to try and escape some other way. _

_Now, tell me, dear Italy. Do you hear that ticking noise...? Ah yes. There is a bomb planted in this room. It's a small one, so only this room will be affected. To let you know, the bomb is set for ten minuets and was started when you turned this card over, pulling the string that triggered the countdown._

_I'll leave you to your bearings now. I'm watching._

_P_

_P.S. From Y: The room _is _arranged like the original murder was. Are you willing to throw away one crime scene in exchange for your life, love?_

_P.P.S From P: The room is soundproof :)_

Italy gave a startled cry, turning over the card. There was indeed a fine thread running from the card, leading into the box. Unaware of the tears that started running down his cheeks, Italy tugged repeatedly on the box. It didn't budge. The ticks, however, seemed to speed up for just a moment. Italy backed away quickly, his entire body trembling.

He looked up.

There was a large clock on the wall. The hour hand was pointing to nine, but the minute hand was starting to tick backwards. Italy realized that it was counting down the moments that he had left.

5.

4.

3.

2.

1.

The hour hand ticked back to eight.

"Germany! Germany!" Italy ran to the door screaming hysterically. "Ludwig! Ludwig! Help me!"

No answer.

~*~-~*~

Green watched curiously as Canada stepped out of Cuba's door. Cuba seemed to have a shocked expression while Canada had a miserable one that made Green frown. He cocked his head curiously, leaning in forward slightly. What exactly were they talking about in there? He wanted to know. Maybe out of pure interest, but he still wanted to find out nonetheless.

"Don't charge in, Green," Pink sang from another branch. Green looked back to see the smaller killer swinging happily off a slightly larger branch with her legs. "I know that look on your face. You're going to do something completely irrational and then _I'll_ be left with cleaning up the mess."

"Lies. We both know that you would be the first to charge in and do something stupid," Green sighed, turning back so he was once more looking at Canada and Cuba.

Green felt the branch that he was perched on tremble slightly as Pink jumped from the branch that she...or he...was on previously to Green's own. The combined weight made the tree shudder before it righted itself, as if nothing happened. "I would never charge in that fast," Pink giggled, swinging her legs back and forth.

"Not like I would know," Green muttered, turning his face towards the sky.

Pink froze for a moment before sighing.

"Oh, Green, you know I just don't want to reveal myself to you guys yet. It's...something that I have to think about." Her voice was distorted from the device installed her full-faced mask. Green felt a chill run up his spine as he listened to it. It didn't exactly sit well with him that Pink knew who he was, but he didn't know who Pink was.

"What's there to think about?"

Pink's smile became forced from underneath her mask, not that Green knew it was even there. Green supposed Pink was a 'she'. For heavens sake, none of the killers even knew what _gender_ Pink was. (He half expected the other killers to start taking bets.) Besides Blue, she was the only killer that didn't bother revealing herself. "I suppose...I'm more afraid of a leak that might happen if I give away my identity."

"The SLK base is perfectly protected," Green argued. "No radio waves are coming in or out of the base. And besides, we individually don't even know where the base is. Therefore none of us could ever _technically_ give away anything about us."

"Except for our identities," Pink said stiffly.

"If any of us ever _did_ have the nerve to do that, then I'm more than positive that the others would rise up and dispose of them before things got out of hand," Green said quietly. "The peeper and anyone who happened to find out. After all, I think we have a very large variety. It would be impossible for any of those detectives to find out who we were."

Pink looked downcast for a moment. Suddenly she brightened again, swinging her legs once more. "Moving on," Pink said immediately. "Is it true that Purple and Yellow are playing some games with Italy and Germany?"

Green rolled his eyes. "Yes. I think this is their version of a _honeymoon_."

"Why, did they get married?"

"No, but if this keeps up, they better before it gets any worse in the SLK base. I thought they were _joking_ when they thought about getting together, heavens sake." Green groaned and dropped his forehead into his palm. "Why do I feel like our world is _shockingly_ similar to the word that we used to live in?"

Pink's head dropped slightly and her legs slowed. It was a while before she replied. "Emerald...do you think we don't live in the same world anymore?" Green looked down at the smaller killer with what Pink supposed was a puzzled expression from behind the mask. She didn't know if it was because of his nickname or because of her question. She tried to explain. "I mean...do you feel left out when you see the other nations laughing and playing? We used to be like that."

Green sighed before turning so he faced Pink completely. He gently cupped her face in his hands. "We are _chosen_, Pink. We're different then them. We know what's happening. And of course the other nations will be unwilling to follow Black. That's why _we're_ here."

"Because we're weaker than them and are easier to manipulate?" Pink cried.

Green looked at her evenly. "Exactly." Unlike the paranoid Pink, Green was wearing the usual masqrade mask, leaving his mouth uncovered. He gently kissed the top of Pink's head and smiled. "And besides, this life isn't that much worse, is it now? Haven't you noticed? Life still goes on with us. We're still the same." He let go of her face and patted her gently on top of the pink wig that she always wore. "Now, let's get back to Canada and Cuba."

The two killers turned back to look at the front of the house, but the two had already disappeared. They blinked with confusion until Pink suddenly pointed out, "Look. There."

Green looked at where her finger was pointed and smiled.

"Ah, Blue. Right on time."

The two looked as a black-clothed person strode casually down the walk wielding a... "Good Lord what is that?" Pink whispered with disbelief.

"That..." Green began before smacking himself with his palm. "Well...it's an interesting story."

Green could imagine Pink's eyebrows raising. "Oh dear. How many people?"

"Most of America's states. Yellow took care of Alaska, and I took care of a few, but he dealt with most of them." Green's eyes followed the gigantic cleaver-like weapon. "He...oh good God...he named it Mr. Cleaver."

Pink was silent for a while. Blue actually looked over and waved cheerfully to them. Green waved back as Blue flashed a thumbs-up and opened the door, sauntering inside.

"He named it Mr. Cleaver." Green laughed quietly at Pink's disbelieving tone.

"Yes, I know. Come on, let's get a closer look." Green dropped down to the ground and ran up the sun-lit path, looking like a patch of shadow crossing the glare. Pink followed him up another tree and peered along with him into a window. Cuba was on the computer, a..._monkey_...sitting on his bed, singing what appeared to be Beethoven in monkey calls.

"Cute chimpanzee," Pink snickered. She spotted a black spot by the door. "Oh, there's Blue!" Green looked down at his stopwatch he apparently pulled out of his jacket magically.

"Two minuets," he muttered. "Blue must've gotten lost. Crap. I just got computer rewiring duties for a month."

Pink rolled her eyes from behind her mask. "You bet with Red again?"

Green sighed, watching as Cuba jumped up from his seat by the computer with a cry that he could hear from all the way outside. Blue merely grinned at Cuba, wiggling his fingers in a hello while he leaned on his gigantic cleaver. Pink supposed that Blue was speaking in a taunting way, but she couldn't tell what he was saying because he wasn't talking as loud as Cuba was screaming (which was mostly profanities)

"A little bet," Green said in a bored tone, as if what was happening before him was nothing. "Red just thought that Blue would have a better sense of direction than me. I told him it wasn't possible."

"Well apparently it is," Pink smiled softly, watching as the monkey tried to leap out of the room in panic. Blue swung his blade swiftly and sliced right through the animal's stomach, innards spilling out. "Eeeeeeeew. Disgusting. Dissection was always Blue's favorite." Cuba gave a furious scream, grabbing his laptop and tossing it at Blue. The killer lazily swung the cleaver up, deflecting the device, causing it to smash against the opposite wall.

"I can't hear a single word they're saying," Green muttered sadly. He grabbed his disposable cell phone and punched out a number on it. Soon after, Blue froze from inside the room. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and then rolled his eyes. He flipped it open. Green smiled and set it to speakerphone.

"What do you want, you two?" Blue's voice sounded exasperated. He looked through the window, resting an elbow on the hilt of his cleaver, and waved sarcastically at the two killers outside. "If you haven't noticed, I'm a little busy right now." Blue jumped up and swung the blunt part of the cleaver into Cuba's head as the nation tried to make an escape. Cuba crumpled to the ground.

"Well we wanted to hear what you guys were saying..." Pink chirped happily into the receiver. Blue seemed to groan loudly while looking down at Cuba.

"You made me knock him out," Blue muttered, looking down at the unconscious nation and poked him in the side with the large butcher knife. Green thought that he saw it dig a little into Cuba's side. "Now I'll have to wait until he wakes up to hear him scream." Blue pulled out the cleaver, a small arc of blood following the weapon.

Cuba woke with another scream.

"Sweet music," Blue sighed softly, placing the cell phone on the table where the two killers outside could see. Green and Pink heard some crackles of static before the connection righted itself again. "Can you guys hear me?"

"Yup," Green said, lounging back on the branch that he happened to be sitting on. Pink smiled and leaned closer to the phone, her ear practically glued to the thing. "Continue, continue." Blue waved his hand dismissively at the two killers outside.

"Who the hell are you?" Cuba demanded, his left hand pressing down hard on his side as he struggled to stand up and reach a gun situated on the computer desk. "And why the hell do you have a phone here?"

"I am a member of the SLK, the Seven Little, Lovely, Lethargic, Lonely, and Likable Killers." Blue shook his head. "Boy is that a mouthful after we let Purple and White on it. And the cell phone is for two obnoxious friends of mine who hate being out of the loop so much that they feel it necessary to come and witness your death." Blue rolled his eyes. Pink shot a peace sign at him.

"M-My death." Cuba sounded disbelieving for a moment. However his voice was soon replaced by a determined one. "Like hell you're gonna kill me today!" He then leaped across the table and grabbed the pistol, firing three shots at Blue.

The killer dodged two, but the last one dug right into his left foot. He didn't even flinch, blood spurting around his new wound. "...That's the best you can do?" he simply asked softly. "You really are pathetic. How about some motivation now? I know your secret."

Cuba froze. "Wha' secret?"

"The one that Canada told you. He told you that Japan killed Mr. Reynolds, didn't he? He told you something that was supposed to be kept quiet."

Cuba didn't react. Blue tilted his head and gave a light laugh.

"Remain firm as you want, because after you, I've got my eyes set on that sneaky little bastard. He's going to be taught a lesson about keeping silent, starting with the removal of his tongue." Cuba snarled.

"Don't you dare touch Canada!"

"Or you'll do what?" Blue asked.

Pink turned to Green. "Daamn."

Cuba's silence was all Blue needed, and he laughed again.

"I have to say, although your resistance is admirable, it seems ever since the Splendid Little War, you've been nothing but a spoiled little child." Cuba growled, stepping back, although dawning realization came over his half angry, half terrified face.

"Y-You filthy pig!" he screamed. "How dare you come into my house!? How dare you disgrace it with your presence!?"

"I'm hurt," Blue sighed. "Seriously though, little shit countries like you make me sick, but I wasn't going to waste my valuable time killing you. However, you can thank sweet little Matthew for what I'm about to do."

"This isn't Matthew's fault! This is all you!" Cuba lowered his voice. "I knew if it was going to be anybody, it would be you."

"I'm glad you think I'm worthy," Blue replied sarcastically. "By the way, where is dear little Mattie headed?"

"Why the hell do you care?" Cuba finally managed to growl. There was a moment of silence as Blue stood there, his cleaver pointing downwards. He took a few steps forward, each one slow and deliberate. Blood spurted from Blue's injured foot each time he put weight on it. Pink and Green's masked faces were inches from the glass as Cuba bravely refused to back down. Blue was just as tall as the island nation, and he leaned forward until his lips were inches from Cuba's ear.

"Because this is my show," he whispered.

The cleaver whirled through the air.

"And anyone that doesn't make the cut is disqualified."

And in a span of a few seconds, Cuba's head separated from his shoulders and his arms fell on to the floor attached to nothing. "I'm sorry for covering Canada in red," Blue apologized softly to the dismembered body. The severed head made a beeline for the window Green and Pink were staring into, causing the smaller killer to jump and curse as the head landed with a smack into the glass. Cuba's expression was pulled into a grimace, blood running slowly down his mouth and severed neck. Green watched expressionlessly as the head slid down, leaving a trail of blood.

"That was fast," he finally said. "At least he had a faster death than some of the others." Blue snorted from inside the room, picking up the cell phone once more. He stepped carelessly on Cuba's detached left arm. Green could hear the crunch of the bones snapping through the phone.

"That was boring. He didn't have any time to scream." Blue sounded disappointed.

"Jesus Blue, he fucking blew a hole in your foot," Pink pointed out.

"I don't feel pain," Blue replied, although he was limping a bit every time he moved. Then again, it was miraculous he was able to put weight on it at all. "However, this lack of a fight was disappointing."

"You could always play like Yellow. Then he'll have plenty of time to scream," Green said as Blue turned around and left the room, dragging Mr. Cleaver on the ground behind him.

"I'm not as patient as Yellow."

Green smiled secretively. "I've noticed that." There was a click as the line disconnected. Blue vanished out the door, and suddenly Pink wretched, lifting her mask just enough for her to vomit.

"Holy crap!" Green exclaimed, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"Oh my God," Pink moaned, sliding her mask back over her mouth. "Oh my God."

"What's wrong?"

"All the...insides," she gasped. "Christ, what's wrong with that guy?" Green gave her a disbelieving look. Surely she wasn't upset by the gore, right?

"I don't mind blood, heck I was the one who tortured Iceland, but disemboweling? He freaking decapitated him and killed an innocent animal!" Pink shuddered, her shoulders quaking. Green felt his concern for her rise, and although he wasn't nearly as affected by the gruesome display, she did have a point. Was it really necessary to kill the monkey? "What is wrong with that guy?"

"Blue's not someone you'd want to meet in a alley late at night," Green replied, rubbing her tense back in order to soothe her.

"H-He'd kill us...if we...got in his way, wouldn't he, Green?" Green bit his lower lip, imagining Blue's motives.

"He'd try," was all Green said. "But we're not getting in his way."

"What have I gotten myself into?" Pink whimpered, bringing her hands over the eye holes of her mask. Green brought her under his arm and gave her a squeeze.

"Come on, we have to clean up after him."

"Is that why we're here?"

"Unfortunately."

~*~-~*~

"Seven minutes," Purple repeated in a bored tone, spinning around in the swivel chair. He turned a half circle and then spun again in the opposite direction. "This is boring, Yellow. At this rate, Italy will be blown to pieces before anything interesting happens."

Yellow, not looking away from the screen, pressed a finger to his lips. "Hush. Listen."

Purple groaned and leaned in towards the speakers.

"Germany! Germany help me!"

"Italy? Italy? Italy the door is locked!"

"I-I know Ludwig there's a bomb in this room! It going to go off in seven minutes!"

"Italy! Are you even in there?"

Purple rolled his eyes. "Are you sure that the soundproof thing was the right way to go? I mean, sure Italy can hear Germany, but I don't think that'll help much since Germany can't hear Italy. Don't you actually want Italy to survive this?"

"Oh I know that Italy's going to survive the bathroom," Yellow said pleasantly, leaning back and looking at the array of monitors in front of him. "The important fact is if he'll remember that Germany has the key not only to the door, but also to the safe that happens to be in that room." Yellow's eyes darted quickly to the bathtub.

Purple's eyebrows raised. "Is _it_ in there?"

"Of course." Yellow grinned. "But first let's see if they get out of this one alive."

Purple looked at Yellow and then sighed. "You forgot to mention the bombs in the hallway that Germany's standing in?"

"Naturally, love. _Forgot_."

* * *

**:3 Oh Yellow. Wow. **

**Well let's do the awesome people that deserve 5,000 cyber-cookies nao~**

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**LightBender! :D**

**Oh, and you guys have to vote on our poll! Angel has nothing to do! We need you guys to help her pick what story she should work on! I voted too. XD**

**And to let you guys know, the amazing Angel's already working on the climax of this arc! Now what does that mean~?**

**We'll let you guys figure out that one. ;)**


	22. Phoenix Strangler

**Okaies, guys, I actually have an explanation this time.**

**You know the swine flu that's flying around? Yeah, that. I felt like crap one morning, didn't go to school, got checked out, and they were thinking that I had swine flu. Now, the doctors weren't sure if it _was_ swine flu, but they thought it was. So I was sitting at home, being all dreary for a few days because I felt like I was falling to pieces. That was the major delay this time--if not, the chappie probably would have come out a week before.**

**We really wanted to publish this yesterday as a Halloween gift, but it'll just have to be belated Halloween present. XD**

**Disclaimer: Angel and I don't own Hetalia. If we did, all of the countries would be dead by now. For real.**

* * *

"Germany! Germany! Germany!"

"Italy, why the hell did you lock the door? I don't even see a keyhole on this thing!"

Italy screamed with fury. Apparently he could hear Germany, but that didn't help anything, considering the one person who wasn't trapped couldn't hear him. The situation looked hopeless. Italy angrily swiped his tears away from his eyes, raised his fists, banged on the door, and although he told himself not to, he looked over at the clock.

6 minutes left.

And he was getting nowhere.

Italy slid down the door, letting himself scream. He let out a single wail he had needed to get rid of ages ago. The wail that should have come when he realized what he got into. The wail that should have come when he saw each murder. Now for some reason, it seemed like the more Italy screamed, the dizzier he was feeling.

They wouldn't.

That wasn't playing fair. They wouldn't gas the room. Italy glanced over at the timer. So in technical sense, he had less than...less than...5 minuets and 47 seconds. Italy jumped up and ran over to the window, fumbling with the hatch. At least the killers didn't blockade the window. It slid open smoothly.

And at once, Italy felt another crushing wave of exhaustion.

Of course. This window was fake. It didn't lead outside. It lead...into another room. Another room that had already been gassed previously.

The situation _was_ hopeless.

Italy simply curled up in a ball, beginning to cry. He refused to admit that it felt much better curled up rather than standing up. He wouldn't admit it to himself, even though inside, he already knew somehow that he wouldn't be able to get up again. The timer continued ticking.

...What was he fighting for again?

What exactly did he think he'd accomplish doing this? Playing detective? Really, he should have known better. After all this time...with a team of seven who knew everything about him, who were trying to murder everyone in the world. And then there was he...he, Germany and Japan. Italy just then realized with despair that the other nations didn't even help. They didn't even think about it.

Maybe this is just a bad dream. Maybe he would wake up, and he'd be in bed. Maybe none of this would have ever happened. Maybe Romano would still be alive. Italy felt the tears slow down a little as he grew more and more tired. Yes. Romano would still be alive. Switzerland would be yelling at Japan to state his own opinion instead of blindly agreeing with America, and Russia would still be there, scaring everyone around him. He wouldn't be emotionless, lying on a hospital bed. China would still be ducking around, trying to act like the big brother. He wouldn't be staring blankly in front of him, unaware of his family. All his loved ones. They were considered...gone...in China's mind. Then again, Italy didn't even know how China thought anymore.

Only then did Italy truly think about all that he had lost. How much the world had lost. America and his annoyingly optimistic personality...it was all gone. Spain's cheerful bluntness. Canada's happiness. Finland's kindness. Denmark's bossy demands. Iceland's calming faith. Norway's wisdom. His own...his own innocence. Italy had suddenly thought less about pasta...and more about piecing this case together. He shook, trying to calm himself. He wanted everything to go back to the way it was. Italy didn't want to live this life anymore. He wanted out.

This wasn't life. Whatever he and the others were doing, living in constant fear—it wasn't life. Or...maybe...were they not truly living before? Italy was confused. Oh so confused. Why did things have to become so complicated? Why did everything disintegrate so fast? Why would anyone do that to him? To everyone.

Only then...

Only then did Italy start realizing.

He was finally acknowledging what it felt like to be alive.

Only now did he have to fight for his life on such a degree. Before, he had hid behind other nations. He watched them from afar, too afraid to do anything and completely incapable anyway. He tried to help. Italy realized that he had then been completely shrouded by a mist of...of...of happiness. He...he had been happy. Of course...he might have been bullied a bit. He might have been pushed around a bit. But...he had been...satisfied. Life was good. No one was dying. Everyone...everyone was happy too. Even England and France, who always fought. Even Belarus and Russia, who were playing a constant game of cat-and-mouse. Even America, who acted like a hero all the time. Even Canada, who had been completely ignored. Italy's arms started shaking. They were...had been...the _world_. They had been everything to so many people.

But they took that for granted. Italy sniffled loudly. He had never stopped to wonder if he had been happy or not. But now, looking back...it was so obvious. There were people to play with. People to love. People to care about. Not everyone might have liked each other on the outside, but deep inside, they had all been connected. Their world actually wasn't as frivolous as Italy had originally thought. Their world...was...was...was a family.

A family. All stemmed from one mother or one father. Italy closed his eyes slowly for a moment. Belarus might have thought that she was completely different from Egypt...but that wasn't the truth, now was it? They were all the same. All the same inside. They all had their people to think of, and they all wanted to think they were doing the right thing.

"_You know Italy...there will come a time where you realize that everything you did before made you happy. But that will only happen when you come to the point where it's not easily possible to bring that happiness back," Rome said sadly, patting his grandson lightly on the head. "So help me, Italy, by staying happy. Because the memories will be all that you'll have once terror starts reigning."_

Italy wrapped his arms around himself from his place on the ground, his tears flowing faster. "I want it to go back," he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. "I want everyone to be happy again. I want these killings to stop. I want..." His tears grew to the point where he felt like he was almost choking on them. "I...I want to like pasta again..."

_Tick...tick..._

"I...I want Ludwig to be mad at me for no reason..."

_Tick...tick..._

"I want...I want Lovino." Italy blinked, his face scrunching with the inability to cry. Crying made him too tired. He was so, _so_ tired. Italy hardly noticed his choking sobs slowing. He was tired. Too tired. It hurt. The tears were there, but they wouldn't come.

All he wanted to do was sleep...sleep...

And then...when he woke up...maybe the world...would be right again...

~*~-~*~

Vietnam looked down at the black liquid in her teacup, her distorted reflection staring back at her with a grim expression. Ever since Reynolds disappeared, things had gone from bad to worse, and her people, already in the greatest thralls of panic, were now demanding in the streets for action against these nation-killers.

However, although her people's worry was justified, and she had an obligation to think of their needs first, she couldn't help but worry over her brother. Of course, when asked about his whereabouts the night Reynolds vanished, she acted as an alibi should and told everyone he had been with her. It had been what she promised him, and she herself felt Reynolds needed to die. Despite what America had done to her and what she had done to him, she hated hearing about the obvious signs of abuse.

Still, the fact Finland also disappeared the very same night the President had, made something horrid settle in the pit of her stomach. There was no doubt in her mind Finland had seen something he wasn't supposed to, but she didn't want to believe Japan was the cause. Then again, she was sure Japan had no intention of being caught, meaning her elder brother might go to any lengths to protect himself. She couldn't blame him if he _had_ done something, but she really doubted it. Maybe it was because she was biased, but her family was her family and Japan had done it out of the best intentions.

She felt a sting in her chest as America flashed through her mind. That bastard better appreciate all that Japan had done for him, what he had risked. It was clear to her Japan was in love with America, whether he wanted to believe it or not, and it also troubled her. Would America do the same for him? Would the immense risk Japan now faced even with an alibi get through the other nation's thick skull? All these negative thoughts whirled through her mind and she let out an annoyed sigh.

Suddenly, there was a loud thump and she startled, dropping her tea, causing the scalding liquid to land on her lap with a hiss.

"Damn!" she cursed, standing up and dabbing the newly formed stain with a towel.

"Such language isn't becoming of a young lady," a distorted voice chided from somewhere behind her. She gasped and whirled around, bracing herself. Leaning against the doorway was a blue masked figure, arms crossed lazily and evil eyes narrowed from behind the holes of the mask.

"Who are you?" she demanded, although she already knew the answer. Slowly reaching behind her, she felt under the table for her oar, glaring at the killer as her fingers tightened around the handle.

"You already know that, but I guess I'll humor you," the killer sighed. "You may call me Blue."

"How did you get in?" Blue held up a bobby pin.

"You know it's not as easy as the movies make it out to be, it took me like, twenty minutes. Can you believe it?"

"What do you want?" she asked softly, also knowing the answer, but wanting to keep him talking. The more he talked, the more time she had to think of a plan to escape.

"You know the answer to that too, but again, I'll humor you. You know something you shouldn't and I'm here to take care of you." Vietnam grit her teeth and unhooked the oar from under the table soundlessly, thankful Blue had yet to notice. This sicko was going to get his brains bashed in if he even thought of charging her. Blue tilted his head momentarily, looking horribly insane, his eyes glinting from behind his mask. "Now I wouldn't think of doing that. I'll hurt you worse than you'll hurt me." Vietnam's eyes widened horribly and it felt as if her blood came to a screeching halt in her veins. Blue gave a laugh, the distorted filter making it sound like some sort of demon's growl.

"You sick fuck, you want to play then!?" Vietnam shouted, losing all self-preservation and yanking the oar out, holding it before her like a sword. Blue gave another laugh, this one sounding childishly gleeful as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a taser from within. He held it out to the other nation, blue electricity hissing between the two metal prongs meant to prod her flesh.

"That's more like it! I always liked that about you, Ciel! You'll put up a much better fight than that Cuba prick!" Vietnam snarled at the use of her French name. The name she tried so hard to separate herself from ever since her hard won independence. It was the name she most despised.

"Don't you fucking dare call me that you psychotic piece of dog shit!"

"Oh, feisty aren't you?" Blue teased. "Hey Ciel, how useful would your oar be against this?" Blue suddenly rushed forward, and immediately, more out of reflex than out of actual intent to hit the killer, she brought the paddle down. To her horror, it snapped cleanly in half, not harming Blue in the least as he barreled into her, knocking her into the edge of the table and onto the floor.

"Shit!" she hissed, feeling blood well in her mouth from where she had bitten her tongue. Blue stood up, cackling softly as he grabbed her ankle and began dragging her to the other room. She weakly raised her head and felt panic threaten to take over when she saw a giant cleaver slung across his back. Without thinking, she took the jagged remains of her oar, lunged up, and plunged the sharp wood deep into the killer's arm.

"You bitch!" Blue yelled, releasing her ankle and reeling back. Rolling onto her stomach, Vietnam got to her feet and started for the door. "Oh, you are too precious!" Blue cackled wildly, lunging after her and throwing his taser.

"Damn it!" Vietnam screamed, barreling out of her house. The taser landed with a harmless thud and angry hiss on the ground. She rolled quickly until she was under the cover of a few trees, sprinting over to her garage without breaking rhythm. However, she could feel...she could _sense_ Blue merely a few paces behind her.

"Here, kitty, kitty!" he laughed, twirling a large cleaver-like blade around his finger. Vietnam scoffed with disgust at his figure before continuing her run. She was closer to the neighbor's garage now. She would have to make it with at least three seconds to spare.

Vietnam easily jumped the picket fence, landing and taking off a moment later. "Bitch!" she screamed over her shoulder when she felt Blue doing the same and not slowing a bit.

Blue yelled something in a joyful tone, but she didn't bother listening. Making a sharp turn, Vietnam skittered to a stop before her neighbor's garage. Ah yes. There it was. The particular motorcycle that her neighbors always tried to keep away from her. (After one incident with Vietnam, the bike, and a tree, the neighbors had become permanently fearful of the Asian nation.) It was beautiful, with sparking red paint, despite the fact that it happened to be decades old. Without hesitation, Vietnam immediately jumped onto the motorcycle and took off.

The wind whipped her hair around in torrents, her conical hat flying in an insane circling motion. Vietnam didn't look back, tearing it off, ignoring the new red mark staining the skin on her neck. And again, she somehow felt Blue...somewhere behind her. Somewhere, following...Vietnam gave a frustrated growl, going even faster as she flew off a railing and landed on a busy road.

_Let's see how you do here, buddy_, she thought, swerving out of a few booths. People screamed with horror at a psychopathic motorcyclist forcing her way through the streets. Then, the people screamed even louder when they saw the dark figure following her, running along the street at a fast pace, a large cleaver trailing behind him. Blue had already gotten slightly irritated at Vietnam's attempt to get away. With quick flicks of his cleaver, he decapitated a woman. A child. A dog. An old man. Anyone that got in the way. There was only one person she could think of with that kind of strength.

Blue saw a young man making way down the road with his friends, but that wasn't what caught the killer's attention. It happened to be the motorcycle that the teen happened to be walking down the street with. With a large slash, the man's head flew off, leaving his friends soaked with blood and screams. He jumped smoothly on the bike, starting to gain on Vietnam. Unlike her, however, he didn't bother being cordial to the people on the street. Either they made way or they were decapitated. Simple enough.

Vietnam graced herself a glance back, cursing her luck when she saw him gaining on yet another motorcycle. Oh great, this would probably end up in some sort of Hollywood worthy film production, complete with a hot blond and a man who's ego would rival America's. Of course. Typical Hollywood. Typical life.

She raced out of the marketplace, almost planting herself right into a pole in the process. Giving a frustrated grunt, Vietnam turned her bike slightly and started down a thin alley.

Shit.

Why her?

Why was it always her?

Rolling her eyes, she looked back quickly to see where Blue was. Ah. Right on her tail. As per expected. Vietnam, looking like she very well might just pull a Switzerland, drove right into the tunnel, exhausting her curse words along the way. The killer followed. This wasn't fair. His motorcycle was a newer model. He had the upper advantage. Vietnam ground her teeth together, trying to find out why Karma was so hell bent on getting back at her.

What had she done wrong?

"_France, why can't I see China?"_

No. Not now. Vietnam quickly wiped off the tears that had accumulated with the biting wind with her sleeve, but was it the wind that had made her cry?

_The European nation merely laughed softly, ruffling the hair of the Asian nation in front of him. "Because, _mon ami_, I don't know what China might do to you. I'm just worried that you'll get hurt."_

_Vietnam drew her self up taller. "I can take care of myself just fine. You should let me take care of myself, Francis."_

"No," Vietnam actually whispered out loud this time. She didn't need to think about that. Not now. Of all times. Couldn't she leave the self pity for spare time later?

_France looked down lovingly at the nation in his arms and bent down, kissing her lightly on __the forehead. "Not now, _amour_. When you're grown up."_

"_But France...I'm an adult in nation terms."_

"_You're only a teenager in human terms. You don't think that I'm going to let you go that fast, now do you?"_

"Fucking LEAVE ME ALONE!" Vietnam screamed into the air around her, her tears now flowing openly. "I don't care! I don't care about what happened back then!"

"Oh, don't you?" Vietnam jumped. She had momentarily forgotten that a killer had been chasing her. Now, Blue was actually riding up next to her, looking as if he'd been there the entire time. She gave a growl of humiliation, realizing he probably had. "Sorry if I'm intruding on some personal thought. Just saying."

Vietnam hissed with disgust and stomped on her brakes, skidding to a stop. Blue seemed surprised at this and sped past her for a moment before turning around and riding back. He seemed slightly surprised that she had stopped. "Something wrong, dear?" He jumped smoothly off the bike, smirking when he noticed Vietnam dropping into a guarding stance. "Oh dear. You think you'll have more luck taking me down here?"

"Hell no," Vietnam lied. "I ran out of gas."

Blue walked up to her bike and circled his cleaver in a large arc. Gas spilled abundantly out of the newly-severed tank, splashing on the ground and staining Vietnam's white shoes. She glared upwards. "You were saying?" the killer asked. He sounded amused. Vietnam wanted to bite this bastard's balls off.

"You're such an asshole."

"'M already used to being called names," Blue said sweetly, flicking the blade so the liquid would fly off. "Try again." He rested intimidatingly on the hilt of his cleaver. Vietnam felt angry tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Blue's eyes seemed to light up immediately from behind the mask. "Oh, _I_ get it now. You got off the bike because it reminded you of _that_."

"Shut the fuck up!" Vietnam screamed, jumping forward and aiming a kick right for Blue's temple. The killer stepped back, swinging up the blade quickly, flicking it so it sliced Vietnam's foot. The Asian nation didn't utter a cry as she landed with both feet on the dirt path. However, her eyes soon widened as an unfamiliar feeling spread through her leg. It felt like hundreds of needles threading their way under her skin, making any place they dove through feel...feel...

Numb.

"Oh dear, I should have warned you about that," Blue said, cocking his head innocently while pocketing the bottle that had been in his hand. Vietnam looked up at him with fury, noticing that he must have let the substance...whatever it had been...drip down the cleaver when he had been leaning on it. "And I only gave you a tiny bit too."

"H-Hell..." she was only able to mutter before her leg gave out entirely from underneath her. "What...what the fuck..." But she was silenced as Blue pulled what looked like a sugar cube out of his pocket, grabbed Vietnam by the throat and shoved it down. The Asian's single reaction was to not let herself swallow it. She closed her throat and endured the choking feeling, glaring up at the killer through the tears.

"Behave, dear," Blue whispered, taking his gloved hand and pressing it into her mouth, forcefully pushing it down. Vietnam gagged and spluttered—finally Blue caught her unawares and the cube slid down. The nation gagged at the slightly bitter taste, bending over until she was on all fours. Blue stood up slowly, looking down at the nation with an expressionless gaze.

Vietnam tried to cough up the cube, but it didn't work. It was already too far down. And strangely enough, it was starting to make her feel...confused. Where was she again? H-How old...? Was this...was this WWII? No...no...wait...

Where's France?

"Lysergic acid diethylamide," she vaguely heard Blue say. "I had to give you a really large dosage, after all. Not only because you're a nation, but because I felt like you'd need to be suppressed quickly. This drug was _so_ hard to find—after all, so many of our fellow nations tried their hardest to prohibit this." Vietnam struggled to stay on what Blue was saying because she really needed to know what exactly it was doing to her, but it seemed to be getting harder and harder by the second. Her mind seemed to be with Blue for one moment before jumping off on some forgotten memory. "I can tell that I'm losing you. This drug not only dilates your pupils, weakens your muscles, and might give you a fever, it seems to be able to change your perception of time, which means you might be remembering somethings that you might not want to remember, Ciel."

_Ciel..._

_Ciel..._

_Where have I heard that name before...?_

"I hope that you have a good trip. Scream if anything jumps out at you."

But at that point, Vietnam was long gone. She was staring at Blue with glazed over eyes right before she fell on her side. The foot that Blue sliced through started twitching, while her eyes blinked once every ten seconds. Blue looked down at her as she looked around her, her mouth shaking, almost as if she was staring at a different scene than the killer was.

And in Vietnam's point of view, she was.

_The day was perfect—a blue sky, the water a sparkling aqua. Vietnam looked up, her conical hat shielding much of the sunlight. A small breeze weaved through a few trees bordering the edges of the harbor, the few small boats sliding across the water lazily. _

"_Is it this quiet in Europe?" Vietnam asked, looking up at France. The taller nation had his blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, his loose shirt unbuttoned, his legs dangling in the water just like the shorter girl's. France laughed at Vietnam before setting a hand much larger than hers on her head._

"_Not at all, _mon amour_. It's the complete opposite. You never get a moment's quiet." France playfully flicked Vietnam on the forehead, making the colony flinch. "England—you remember him, don't you—he's creating a gigantic ruckus everyday, complaining about this or that and completely ignoring America for all that he's worth." Vietnam laughed, grabbing France's larger hand in her own smaller ones. She patted his fingers as he talked, both of them leaning back against the large tree, the branches dipping and covering the two from the worst of the sunshine._

"_You talk about England like he's a girl." France looked down at Vietnam with surprise before bursting into laughter. Vietnam pouted childishly._

How...how many years ago was that...?

"_Oh, Ciel, you never cease to amaze me," Francis sighed, tickling Vietnam's palms gently with his captured hands. "I do admit that I worry about whether or not England's got some female hormones, but other than that, he's very much a boy." Vietnam cocked her head, her attention lost from the point France called her that strange name._

"_What does Ciel mean, Francis?"_

_France blinked as if he was startled. "Do you not like it? I can give you another name. But Ciel was the first thing that came to mind. It suits you, _chéri_."_

"_No, I like it," Vietnam argued. "I just want to know what it means. It sounds very pretty. Does it mean butterfly? It sounds like it would mean butterfly."_

_France laughed again. "Butterfly is _papillon_, _chéri_. No, Ciel means 'sky' in my language. I chose it because you've got such pretty scenery here." Vietnam looked up as if cued, staring around the pristine sky as if searching for a flaw. She turned back to France to see him staring up too. "You just don't see pretty places like this anymore," he whispered sadly._

"_Whatever do you mean, Francis?"_

_He turned to look back down, but this time his eyes were hooded as if he was carrying a terrible secret. "Stay...please...Ciel...just stay young...for as long as you can." Vietnam blinked, continuing to pat Francis's hand between her own small ones. _

Ciel...Ciel...

"_I promise, Francis. I'll stay like this forever."_

_But France's smile wasn't reassuring at all._

_The scene changed. This time Vietnam was standing across from a small boy about the same height as her, both of them perched on parallel fences, facing each other. Vietnam looked at him curiously, just as he was staring at her._

"_What's your name?" the boy finally asked. Vietnam stiffened._

"_Which one?"_

"_Your name?" the boy repeated._

"_...Vietnam."_

_The boy nodded solemnly, leaning back as if he was satisfied. "Ah. So you're that wine bastard's territory." Vietnam growled at the nickname, though the boy didn't seem to notice. "I'm Hong Kong. I've heard about you from England."_

"_So you're that city that the Mr. All-Things-Pink-And-Sparkly snagged from China," Vietnam muttered, scratching her thought as if it took her a lot of effort to remember. Hong Kong's eye twitched just slightly. _

"_Gained _temporarily_."_

_Vietnam snickered into her hand. "Of course, Unicorn Boy Jr."_

_Hong Kong shook his head dismissively. " England calls me Sterling, but China likes to call me Jin. So I guess you can call me one of those names too. I don't mind. It's the same to me." Vietnam leaned forward slightly, almost toppling off her fence._

"_France calls me Ciel. I don't know what my other name would be. Do I have to have one?" Vietnam rocked forward and backwards slightly. Jin, Sterling, or Hong Kong looked at her as if she was about to fall any second._

"_I don't know," he finally said, dark expressionless eyes following her swinging feet. "I don't think you _have _to have two. I know China and England only have one. Maybe it's just because we're special or something that we get two. Would you like another name? I can give you one."_

_Vietnam shook her head. "Nah. Whatever you dish out would probably be Chinese or British."_

_Hong Kong leaned his elbows on his legs and cupped his chin in his hands. "Well then, come up with something in Vietnamese. And for the record, I would be dishing out Chinese anyways. Most people speak Mandarin—I speak Cantonese. China picked that name for me."_

"_China should pick another name for me too," Vietnam muttered._

"_I can give you a Mandarin name."_

"_I told you I don't care about Chinese names!"_

"_Well you said that you wanted China to pick out a name for you." Hong Kong half-glared at Vietnam. "You thought that China would pick a Vietnamese name for you?"_

"_I guess..."_

"_I'd stick with Ciel." Hong Kong cocked his head. Vietnam noticed that the most his expression changed was when his eye had twitched earlier. "It's a very pretty name. It suits you too. You look very much like a Ciel. Even though Ciel sounds more like a boy's name."_

"_If you were any closer to me I'd clip you around the face," Vietnam warned._

"_Why? I was only complimenting you." _

Right...when...when did those...those events happen again...?

_Vietnam was standing on a gravel road. She glared expressionlessly at France's back, ignoring how the other nation had his arms wrapped around himself and was leaning back and forth as if he was trying to gain enough momentum to run away. She faced him, one leg off of the motorcycle to keep it from toppling over._

"_Give it up, France!" she yelled harshly. "You've got nowhere else to run!" France didn't turn __around. He continued looking at the horizon and the setting sun. Vietnam ground her teeth together when he didn't answer and stomped down on the gas, zooming in front of France with her bike and making a sharp turn, stomping down her foot again, sending a cloud of dust into the air. "Damn you, France, listen to me!"_

_Vietnam saw that France wasn't crying. He seemed to be looking at the setting sun, completely unaware that Vietnam was even there. After a few moments, his eyes finally locked on Vietnam's face. "Ci...Ciel..."_

"_Don't fucking call me that!" Vietnam screeched. She raised her hand and struck France across the face. "Don't you fucking call me that anymore! I'm not Ciel! I'm Vietnam!"_

_France turned his head slowly so he was looking at Vietnam again. "No, you'll always be Ciel to me," he said, smiling sadly. "Oh, _chéri, _didn't you promise me that you were never going to grow up?"_

"_I was young then," Vietnam growled. France looked down at her with a depressed stare. "I didn't know what it meant to be reliant on someone that took advantage of you."_

_France raised his hand to rub gently against Vietnam's cheek, smiling softly. "You'll always be my Ciel. And you're still so young, _amour_. You still don't understand yet. You still don't understand how everyone in this world is like a parasite. You still don't understand how easy it is to take advantage of a nation."_

"_I do too." Vietnam clenched her jaw. The hand that she used to find was comforting was stroking soothing circles on her skin, but she only felt disgust at France now. His fingers felt like they were hollowing her out. "I'm older now. I've grown. I can take care of myself. Leave me alone."_

_France looked down for a while, his hand dropping from Vietnam's cheek. "Oh...Ciel...I just wanted to protect you. You don't...you don't know how many mistakes I've made throughout my life, Ciel..." He looked up and smiled. "But you know what, you're a big girl now. If you want your space...I suppose that shouldn't be that big of a deal, now should it?"_

No...don't go...come back...

"_Are you sure...sure that this is what you want?"_

No...please...

Blue looked down at Vietnam and closed his eyes. "I really don't need to be seeing this right now," he sighed, grabbing Vietnam's arm and slinging her over his shoulder, beginning a trek to the car. "Come on Ciel. It's about time we joined the others. They tend to be rather impatient—they probably thought I got hungry and ate the lysergic acid myself."

Vietnam's eyes rolled up. "C-Ciel...Ciel...Ciel is...is..."

Blue didn't respond.

~*~-~*~

Germany banged his fists against the door with a force that would have made it topple. "Italy! Italy! Damn you, Italy, answer me!" No response. Germany hissed, wanting to break down the door and charge in, but of course, there were always the other factors to consider. Italy had been in there for nearly ten minuets. What the heck was he doing?

A, actually _going_ to the bathroom.

B, taking evidence.

C, he fell asleep.

Germany groaned, slamming his forehead against the door.

_Thunk_.

...Huh?

Germany frowned and slammed his head against the door again. _Thunk_. He frowned and stepped back. This door...it wasn't wood. It didn't sound even slightly hollow. The sound...it sounded more like it was...one of those reinforced doors that were used. But why would the bathroom door be such a strong...?

...Oh _shit_.

Germany immediately pulled out his gun, aiming it just right of the doorknob. He shot over and over. To his relief, the wood...or whatever the door was actually made of broke easily as if it had been waiting for that moment the entire time. Germany ducked down immediately and looked through the new hole.

He wanted to turn around and vomit.

The inside was completely bloodstained and smelled like blood—lots of blood. There was a white mop of hair sprawled in the corner, the head looking...deformed. Germany raised a hand to his mouth as some attempt at not puking. If he hadn't known Nussia had died long ago, he definitely would have thought that the doll was the small boy. He turned slightly, trying to find Italy.

And then he smelled it.

The gas.

Germany immediately jumped back from the door, unwanted memories springing up again. Hydrogen cyanide. No...no...the killers wouldn't do this on purpose.

...Would they?

_The old lady looked up at Germany and smiled as the nation helped her over the high stair leading into what the others believed were the showers. Germany had to look away as she entered the room, along with all of the Jews. A man placed his hand on Germany's shoulder, smiling._

"_We're doing a good thing, Ludwig," he said. "We're cleansing the world. We're helping our race spread further and further." Germany refused to meet his gaze._

_The door shut. It was a while before the screams began._

Germany brandished his gun, shooting at the peephole and making it bigger. It spread obediently, soon allowing his hand to slide through. Germany dove forward again, grabbing the key in his fist and sliding it though the door, trying to blindly find the keyhole. He stabbed the key against something round. Encouraged, he tried sticking it higher up. No, that was the top edge of the doorknob. Down then...down...down...

The key slid smoothly into a groove.

Germany turned it.

_Click_.

"Italy!" he called immediately, standing back up and flinging open the door. Sure enough, the brunette was lying by the window. Germany splashed through large puddles of blood, crouching by Italy. "Italy wake up! Wake up! You can't die here!"

"G-Germany..." Italy's eyes twitched, and then opened just slightly. His automatic reaction was to hug Ludwig to death, but he couldn't gather the strength and his arms fell after lifting them less than one centimeter. Then his second reaction was to check the clock.

One.

One minute.

"Ludwig get out of here..." Italy whispered, letting his head hit the ground again. "The room...the room's going to explode in one minute...get out..."

"Wha...wha...?"

"Go...I'm too tired to leave anyway," Italy smiled, closing his eyes again. "This is a nice place to sleep. Forever and forever and forever..."

"What the hell are you talking about, Feliciano?" Germany demanded, watching Italy's face relax. "Italy...Italy! Italy!"

No response.

That was it. Germany immediately scooped up Italy in his arms, turning around and running out of the room and down the hall. Unknown to Germany, the clock continued ticking down.

10.

Germany dived around a hallway and entered a secondary room. "Damn it!" he screamed, doubling back and running the opposite direction.

6.

Germany found the main hallway, but perhaps he had stayed in the gas too long. His legs started wobbling as he dove down another corridor.

4.

He ran into the main hallway. The door was in sight.

3.

Germany tore down the hall. "Italy, don't worry! We're going to make it!"

2.

He grabbed doorknob with his teeth and flung it open.

1.

Germany heard something detonating back in the hallway. In panic, he threw Italy into some bushes on the left and tried to dive to the right.

And he almost made it.

The explosion shook the house for a moment before the entire structure toppled, wood piling on the ground at a breakneck speed. The sky looked like it had been dusted with silver, the air smelled burnt and sour, but there were more pressing matters at the moment. Germany stood there, shocked.

He couldn't feel the right half of his face. He raised a hand to touch his cheek.

Wet.

Blood.

~*~-~*~

"They actually made it," Yellow muttered, shaking his head with disbelief. "They _actually_ made it. They _actually—_"

Purple slammed his forehead against the desk. "Yellow I swear, you say that one more time and I'll grab Blue's clever and cut out your vocal chords." Yellow turned towards Purple, his eyes wide and confused.

"How did they make it out?"

"They made it out because Germany finally decided that he didn't want to be a dumbass and shot the door and unlocked it," Purple said wearily. "I thought we went over this already, dear. They made it out. They didn't get the tape. What else is there to worry about? I don't think Italy even looked around that much. He probably didn't get anything from the setup."

"Oh, if neither of them died, then this was so pointless," Yellow sighed. "I wanted to see some _blood_."

"Germany got the right half of his face blown up, that's not enough for you?"

"Yeah, that'll become an ugly scar later on. Still, if nothing else I was hoping they'd get the tape. I'm very curious to see Japan's reaction. Oh well, I'll have to think of some other charming game to lead them to it. Did Blue get Vietnam?"

"I dunno, he didn't call." Purple flipped open his disposable, frowning at the screen. Yellow sighed, standing up from his swivel chair. Purple looked up at him with surprise. "Where are _you_ going?"

"To clean up that mess," Yellow sighed.

"Leave it for Pink and Green."

"They're not the cleanup brigade, love."

"They might as well be."

Yellow rolled his eyes. "Come on, Purple, I'll make it worth your while."

"Oh joy. Sex on a pile of rubble. Just what I always wanted."

Yellow doubled back and grabbed Purple's shirt, forcing their lips together.

"...I'm coming."

"That's what I thought, love."

~*~-~*~

"_Hello?"_

"_Alfred! Alfred!"_

"_Whoa, whoa, Mattie! Calm down! What's wrong?"_

"_Cuba! Cuba's dead!"_

"_...W-W-What?"_

"_T-T-There's...oh God, there's blood everywhere!"_

"_M-Mattie...just...just calm down..."_

"_No, I can't calm down! I'm next, Alfred! Don't you see? I'm next! I can feel someone following me!"_

* * *

**...And there you have it! The next chappie of SLK! XD**

**Just as a litle half-ramble here, Hong Kong and Vietnam's names are completely randomly given to them. Namely it's from me habit of naming my characters after the song that I'm listening to just then. Hong Kong's name, translated into English, is 'gold'. The rest...well you already know that. XD**

**...There was something else I had to say...but I forgot...oh well. XD**

**SHOUT OUTS~!**

**Y, ****Kari Kurofai** (We hope you keep reading, love :3)**, , ****Ichi Hime-Sama****, ****bombayxprodigy** (O.O You finished it all in one sitting? You're amazing! XD)**, Anonymous, ****LightBender****, ****Thunderstorm101****, ****Madam Imagine****, ****namineheart12****, ****Sarahbelle Saunders****, ****Lone Kunoichi****, HandInTheCookieJar, ****dragoneian****, ****xYukii****, ****Kara2992****, ****Canadino****, ****Verocat****, ****KibalurvesHinata****, ****SargentPepper64****, ****rae1112****, ****Lochesh****, ****Slagathor****, ****Tobi- That's What They Call Me****, ****, ****LaRequinne****, ****LupinandHarry****, ****Victoria Wan****, ****koholint****, ****Necromancer Staff****, ****Yu-SuNago****, ****AnimeDutchess****, ****the e t e r n a l -STORY****, ****CanadianCookie****, The Rare Reviewer, ****deredere****, ****ninjafox369 **(Ah, you kill me. XD)**, ****EmoLollipop****, ****AikoujOi****, ****devsHaruhi-x **(We do love cliffhangers. XD)**, I Brake For Bishounen Boys, marmoki, aaaaand~**

**luffyluffy!**

**I REMEMBER WHAT I FORGOT NOW.**

**Okay, there was something that Angel and I wanted to try out, but we're REALLY hesitant about it. We've got some plot bunnies that we can't seem to write, so we were thinking about posting them on our profile and having a little competition. Only problem is we were afraid no one would participate and then our poor little plot bunnies would be abandoned. So if you think you might be interested, leave us a little note!**

**And...I think that's it!**

**Until next time, ciaosies!**

**Lucky**


	23. Suicide Website Murderer

**Okay, everyone, here's the newest chappie of SLK! I'm so happy, I made my one month deadline for this fic! XD I'm pathetic.**

**And Angel wants to give a little warning, though I really don't think it's too necessary since this is an M fic. -.-; We have a little JaAm scene at the end...though I seriously don't recommend skipping it, since it is REALLY, REALLY IMPORTANT.**

**We also decided to do the contest, but the info is in the ANs at the bottom. :3**

**...That said, let's move on!**

**Disclaimer: WE. DO. NOT. OWN. HETALIA.**

* * *

Japan dove into the taxi after he took an impossible one day trip all the way from Beijing to Hong Kong. Unfortunately, upon arriving at the hospital there, he had found out that after the two days he spent in America's room, Italy and Germany had been transferred to the very hospital he just left. So that lead to yet _another _day trip back to Beijing, meaning two days had been wasted in America's room, and another two had been wasted on his wild excursion to Hong Kong and back. So all in all, that left four days wasted, and a very frazzled Japan. "_Sĭ Dìng _Hospital, please," he said, breathlessly. The driver nodded solemnly, turning around and starting the engine. Japan pulled out his cell phone as fast as he could as the driver pulled away from the airport and jumped onto a crowded street. The nation dialed as fast as he could, never taking his eyes off the clock.

_Click_. "Hello? I'm sorry, but it's not a very good time right n—"

"Hong Kong? Hong Kong! It's me!"

"J-Japan?"

Japan clutched the cell phone harder, not caring that the cab driver might have been listening in. "Hong Kong, I'm on my way to the hospital. I'm on the road, and I think it'll take me about another...ten minutes to get there." Hong Kong actually let out a choke of relief.

"Oh, thank God, Japan." Hong Kong sounded unbelievably weary. "Though if you say ten, it'll probably be at least thirty with traffic."

The cell phone started trembling with the strength that Japan was clenching it. "Jin...how are...how are Germany and Italy?" He heard the previous English territory inhale sharply when he used his real name. Japan knew that Hong Kong preferred the name Sterling, but he could never guess why. Did he want to run away from China?

"Italy and Germany? Italy's conscious right now. Germany...he..."

"He what?" Japan felt himself whisper, horrified. After Hong Kong didn't answer for a while, Japan's hand started shaking violently. "H-He what, Jin?" Another hiss at the use of that name.

"His wounds are...are...well, let's just say that normal peo—humans—would already be dead."

Japan dropped the phone.

The cab driver looked back quickly before fixing his eyes back on the road. Japan slowly wrapped his arms around himself, too frozen to pick the phone back up. Germany...was dying? No...no...he was a nation. He couldn't die that easily. And besides, his capital is still standing, right?

It seemed like Hong Kong couldn't tell that Japan wasn't listening directly anymore, because he was still talking. His voice sounded distorted and filtered now that Japan didn't have the phone pressed to his ear. "Italy...Italy couldn't look at him. He seems to have lost his marbles a bit too. Mumbling something about leaving himself behind and telling him to save himself. And how stupid he was to not listen or something along those lines."

Italy told Germany to save himself? What exactly happened to them? Japan clenched his arms tighter around himself. He cursed himself for the millionth time. How stupid did he have to be—to just assume that Germany and Italy were fine in a time that psychopathic killers were running around? Japan forced himself to loosen his arms slightly and pick back up the phone, just as Hong Kong was starting to get worried.

"Kiku? Are you still there?"

"I am." Japan paused for a moment, trying to scramble together his scattered thoughts. He finally managed to voice out a semi-coherent half-question. "G-Germany...he...he's not going to...to..."

"Die?" Hong Kong laughed bitterly. Japan jumped at the sound. Hong Kong never laughed. Well, never laughed happily, in any case. "Of course not. Germany's got too much life left in him to die. He can't. We can't. Even if we might want to, we're not allowed to die. We're not that lucky." Hong Kong laughed again, though this time Japan thought he caught a slightly breathless tone to it. "Humans can die. They can just leave. But we can't. We have to stay, to suffer through all of this shit until someone finally has the sense to kill us off too. I hate it!" Japan winced, pulling the phone momentarily away from his ear as Hong Kong, in the first time in his memory, shouted out loud.

"Jin...are you...?"

"I am not fine, thank you! I can't believe that some nations would actually be so bloody stupid! How could they?! Don't they know that we're all the same? Why would they even think about hurting so many people like this? It would be better if those victims would just die and save the rest of us some sanity!" Hong Kong gasped and was quiet afterward, as if what he just said had sunk in.

There was another moment of silence. Japan was frozen. Was Hong Kong...was Hong Kong losing it too? Did that mean that the other normally calm and composed nations would be...would be spiraling into insanity as well? "J-_Jin_," Japan whispered, horrified. "What's gotten into you? H-How could you say something like that?"

Another moment of silence. Japan heard Hong Kong taking deep breaths again. "I-I'm sorry, Kiku," Hong Kong finally said. "I suppose...I just suppose I have a few things on my mind. I just...I can't believe that the killers...that they would..." Japan's eyes widened as he looked at the phone. Hong Kong never stuttered before.

Was he...was he breaking too?

Japan closed his eyes. He tried to think. What could possibly make Hong Kong mad to this extreme?

The answer was so simple, Japan kicked himself.

"...Jin...Taiwan...she's..."

Silence.

Problem identified.

Japan felt himself holding his breath, praying that Hong Kong wasn't going to answer. But he did, his voice cracking and his English sinking into a thick British accent. "She's...she was standing outside the house when it...b-blew up. Her...her legs..." Japan took a deep breath and closed his eyes slowly.

"Is she...can she walk?"

There was silence for a few moments as Japan heard Hong Kong breathing slowly, as if he was trying to calm himself down. Finally the answer came.

"No."

Japan's heart sank. How could this happen? These were events in horror movies. This kind of stuff didn't happen in real life. "Will she...?"

"They don't know," Hong Kong said. He was quiet for another few moments before exhaling loudly. "Japan...if...if you don't mind...she's...she's..."

"Of course not," Japan said quickly. "I'll...I'll call you back once I get there."

"Thank you, Kiku."

Japan sighed, hearing Hong Kong hang up less than a second after he said goodbye. He stared at his cell phone for a moment, as if waiting for it to give him instructions on what to do now. The world was falling apart. Japan wondered why they couldn't make a _Saving the World for Dummies_, but of course no one _anticipated_ a group of killers coming together and suddenly starting to wipe out the world.

He missed the days when he didn't have to lead. Of course everyone wanted to—everyone wanted to be in charge. But when it comes times like this, Japan recalled bitterly that his younger self would have run immediately to China and hid behind the elder's legs. But could he hide behind China now? China didn't even recognize him.

Leading wasn't fun. You got blamed for everything wrong, and everything that you do right would be dismissed with a, "It's your job anyway." Leaders had the highest expectations, and with nations toppling one after another—normal, _healthy_ nations, the world was in a state of widespread panic. The actual nations might have not known this at this time, or perhaps they had already felt the feeling spreading in them, but the people were changing. Their mental views, their moral values, who they prized—all of it. Everything was being re-written at this time. People of different races that had been on perfect terms with each other suddenly became wary of each other. They strayed away from each other. The borders had yet to close, but getting from one nation to another was now considered an almost impossible feat.

And yet...perhaps it was here that the seed had started sprouting. Though people were drifting apart from each other, they also happened to be drawing close together too. Families, siblings, lovers, friends...all of them started treating each new day as the last day, filling every day with only care for each other and showing no irritation. Maybe it was here that it all started.

Though the nations appeared to be growing farther and farther apart, inside, they were changing too. This was around the time that the seeds of either insanity or determination were planted—in most cases, both. This was the one time where every single decision counted for everything afterward. This was the time where the personalities of the nations for the rest of this tragedy would be decided. Some will rise. Some will fall. Some will spiral into failure. Some will face fear in the eyes and crush it. At this point, it all relied on the willpower of the nations.

This was the first stage of the battle. The moral fight.

This was where Japan and Italy differed. Where Italy brought his memories back to how things were before the Lovelies began terrorizing the wold, Japan was thinking about how the world would have to be fixed. Where Italy wallowed in the past, Japan sped on towards the future. Both of them had the incredible potential to be destructive. Staying in the past, what is coming at your face will be ignored. Only looking in front of you, what happened before could be easily forgotten. At the same time Italy became more oblivious, Japan became more breakable.

And what do you get with the combination of all these facts?

...Why, you get the rise of insanity, of course.

Lots and lots of insanity. :)

~*~-~*~

Italy stared up at the ceiling, unable to move at all. Well of course he _could_. But that didn't necessarily mean that he would, right? After all, one glance at Ludwig was all that he needed to determine what had happened after he blacked out. Germany decided to save him. He ran with Italy. Italy made it with poisoning. Germany made it out with a disfigured face.

For the fifteenth time, Italy told himself not to look over at Germany when he thought of him. It was the natural reaction, but Italy was both torn to see his face again and to ask for another room. But he knew, deep down inside, that he wouldn't be able to leave. He wouldn't be able to go anywhere that was far enough that he couldn't hear the steady beeping of the heart monitor that connected itself to Germany. He needed physical reassurance that Germany was still okay.

Italy shifted slightly, painfully aware of the pressure pushing down on his lungs. Even if he did get up to go to the bathroom or whatever, that didn't necessarily mean that he would be able to stand up for long. The small tube of oxygen was the only thing that made sure that he didn't conk out. Of course he wouldn't die like another human, but make the wrong move and he could be knocked into a coma just like Russia's. And at this point in the game, time was everything.

Feliciano sighed, turning off the television. He found the noise to be somewhat irritating, and he was pretty sure that Germany, though he hasn't woken up yet, wouldn't be happy with irritating sounds. Before he could stop himself, Italy turned his head to see Germany lying on the bed to his left.

With the positioning of the beds side by side, Italy could only see the disfigured side. The doctors had been people that were in on the nations' secrets, so Germany's fast recovery was of no surprise to them. However, they told Italy, Germany's face was probably not going heal to its normal appearance. The new skin would grow around irregularly, but at least he wouldn't be dead, like a normal human most certainly would have been in this situation.

The skin on Germany's damaged half of his face was an mixture of pink and cocoa colors, making it look blotched and slightly patch-worked. His right eye, the doctors declared, had been pierced with a shard of glass. There was no saving it. A small bundle of bandages covered what Italy knew now was a hole where one brilliant blue eye had once been in. A scar seemed to grow across the corner of his lips, which the doctors said wouldn't be big enough to change his speech but would be very noticeable. His hair, which had looked like a newborn fledgling's sparse feathers after the explosion, had been shaved completely off, and the hearing of his right ear had been lost and deemed well beyond repair.

Italy recalled the doctors telling him over and over again how Germany was to have only had one piece of flying debris hit him—the rest had all been flames. They told Italy that after he had healed as much as he could, the blotchy skin would probably be replaced by pinched marks and scars all across that half of his face. They showed Italy a digital image of what it might look like, which only made Italy burst into tears.

The doctors had also told him about his own state. Italy had suffered a severe case of cyanide poisoning, which, again, would have killed a normal human in a matter of minutes. Apparently he had just barely avoided falling into a coma equivalent to Russia's, and even now, his temperature was at an abnormally low degree. The few doctors who knew of nations were assigned to Germany and Italy, considering normal doctors would have called Myth Busters by now.

Italy leaned back, turning away from Ludwig, looking instead at the ivory-white ceiling. Where was Japan? Of course he might not have gotten the message that he and Germany were moved to a hospital in China, but it shouldn't have taken him this long, right? Feliciano felt vaguely worried, wondering if Japan had run into any trouble on the way. Italy wanted to ask Hong Kong if Japan was close, but that would have been really selfish of him. Hong Kong was currently in the room next door where they were holding Taiwan, who woke up not ten minutes ago.

According to bystanders, Taiwan had been outside in the backyard the entire time. Apparently she had fallen asleep on the grass and woke up, stepping into the house to grab something just as the bomb in what appeared to be the main hall went off. They hadn't found her until Germany called Hong Kong, which promptly led to him running up there in panic because he knew that Taiwan was still there. They found her passed out, her legs smashed under a piano. The doctors declared they were completely destroyed, a sight that one didn't see very often. They said that Xian would survive. The question was whether she could walk or not.

Italy kept staring at the wall, hearing small bits of conversation through the closed door of his room. The beeping of Ludwig's heart monitor, though it was comforting, was starting to drive him insane. It was like another countdown timer, except this time Italy didn't know when it would stop.

And not knowing was worse than knowing.

The speaker in the room buzzed with static for a moment before a voice rang through. "Feliciano Vargas, you have a visitor. Would you like him to come in?"

Italy's eyes widened. About time. He struggled to push himself into a position that at least vaguely resembled an upright one, but had to dig his elbows so deeply into the mattress that it disturbed the needles digging into his arm. He gasped, giving up, tears welling into his eyes before choking out, "Please send him in."

Japan burst into the room as if he had been standing outside the entire time. Italy thought dryly that even if he had wanted to have a restraining order put on the Asian man, he probably would have still made it in. The question, of course, would be whether he would do it in a legal way or not.

Kiku's hair was a tousled mess, his cheeks pink from the winter chills outside. He doubled over, resting his hands on his knees and breathing heavily as if he had run all the way up the hospital stairs instead of taking the elevator. Italy suddenly felt slightly bitter, a feeling that he didn't usually experience. "I-I-Italia-kun," Japan gasped. "I am so, _so_ sorry for being so late! I flew all the way down to Sterling's hospital, but no one was there! They said you and Germany-sama just recently transferred here!"

Italy looked at Japan with a plastic expression. "We've been here for two days." Japan shot right up, and if it was even more possible, flushed a bright shade of red.

"I-I'm so sorry, Italia-kun, I clearly wasn't thinking when I—"

"Where were you, Japan?" Italy asked. Japan hesitated.

"I was coming to see you and Germany-sama—"

"Where _were_ you?"

Japan looked slightly confused. "Italia-kun, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't understand the ques—"

"_Where were you_?!" Italy finally broke. His arms snapped out and he shoved himself into a sitting position, yelling at Japan. "_Where were you_?! It's a simple question, Japan! Just answer it! Why weren't you there when we were being blown up? Why weren't you there when Ludwig was hurt? Why weren't you there when I was gassed? Why weren't you there when Xian's legs were smashed?! Your own sister! Why aren't you _ever_ there anymore?!"

Japan's eyes widened. "Italy...I..."

"You don't even mean it!" Italy screamed. Needles flew out of his arm as he raised it to point accusingly at Japan. "You're lying! I can tell! You don't care about us at all! You know what, you can just leave! I bet the killers would just love to take a bite out of you!" He let a giggle, bringing his outstretched arm to hug his stomach as if he was trying to pull himself together. "Here, here, killers! Japan's just _begging_ to be released!" Italy tossed back his head, laughing out loud.

Japan's arms started shaking as dread seemed to weigh his stomach down. Was this...was this still Italy? Italy wasn't violent. Italy never hated anyone. He didn't ever yell at anyone. Italy was a ball of sunshine. No way Italy would start losing it too... "Italy...are you feeling okay?" Italy's laughs stopped as suddenly as they had come and he leaned forward again.

"No!" he yelled forcefully. Japan jumped with the intensity of Italy's sudden outburst. "I'm _not_ okay right now, Japan! If you haven't noticed, I'm in a hospital bed with a severe case of cyanide poisoning! If you had been there, you could have helped Ludwig! Instead you chose to chase your little schoolboy crush!"

That stung.

Japan set his jaw. "You don't know anything," he finally growled. "Do _not_ insult me by saying I'd endanger myself over a simple crush. It goes far deeper than that." Italy actually blinked, leaning back slightly with surprise. Japan's voice was lowered and quiet, but it sounded dangerous. It also happened the be the first time that he openly admitted that he liked America. _There's a start..._ "Why is _everyone_ mad at me for being worried about Alfred?! Feliciano, you should be one of the last people to lecture me right now! Don't tell me that you aren't worried for Germany-sama!" Italy's eyes flickered automatically to the blond nation's patched face and shuddered.

"I care about Germany," Italy said icily. "But in caring for him, I also care about the world."

"Alfred _is_ my world."

The two nations stood/sat there, glaring daggers at each other. Finally, much to Japan's surprise, Italy laughed. However, this time it wasn't as dangerous sounding as before. It sounded genuine and happy. "_Finally_, _Nihon_! That took a while for you to admit that you liked America!" Italy grinned cheekily as Japan finally realized that Italy had been acting and flushed again with embarrassment.

"Italy-kun you...you need to stop doing that," Japan finally managed to say weakly, pulling out a chair and sinking into it. Italy smiled at Japan, proud at himself for finally making his friend admit that he liked America. "You...you shouldn't take advantage of people like that."

"Oh, _Nihon_, you did everything on your own accord," Italy giggled happily, leaning back against his pillows with a sigh. He frowned at his arm, where there were a few bubbles of blood around the new wounds. "But...you couldn't admit it any faster?" Japan smiled at Italy's whine.

"If you told me what your goal was, it would have been much easier," the Asian country offered, looking over at Germany and getting a good look for the first time. His eyes widened. "Germany-sama's eye..."

"Lost," Italy said. "It was beyond repair."

Japan hesitated. "I'm...I'm so sorry, Italia-kun."

"Not your problem," Italy sighed, waving his hand dismissively. Japan couldn't help smiling. The gesture looked comical on Italy. "So, Japan, what _did_ take you so long to get here? Isn't America's room just down the hall?"

Japan looked vaguely embarrassed. He fiddled with his thumbs for a moment before answering. "Er...Italy...that's because...I...I thought you and Ludwig would be in a hospital in Hong Kong. When I got the call, I was in America's room...I ran out and took the fastest train to Hong Kong..." He looked up to see Italy shaking with laughter again.

"You ran all the way to _Hong Kong_ and back?" Italy finally managed to giggle semi-coherently. Japan smiled wryly.

"It wasn't one of my best moves."

"No wonder it took you two days," Italy grinned just as Japan's phone went off. He immediately pouted. "Why do you get all the important calls, _Nihon_? I wanna be important too!" Japan merely smiled and held up a finger, signaling Italy to be quiet as he picked up.

"_Moshi moshi_?"

Italy watched as Japan's face went from cheerful to confused to serious to horrified. Italy pushed himself a little higher up on the bed. "Japan..." The Asian nation shook his head at Italy, shushing him again and relaying something into the phone in Japanese. Italy tried again. "_Nihon_..."

Japan closed the cell phone lid. "That was my boss. Vietnam's gone, Hanoi's destroyed," he said curtly. Italy's fingers froze a hair's breath from Japan's arm.

"Vi...Vietnam?"

Italy's eyes widened when he saw Japan lower his head into the palm of a hand. "...She knew," Italy heard.

"Knew what?"

"Knew that I killed Reynolds," Japan muttered. Italy's mouth popped open. Japan killed Reynolds? What? Japan was a nation with a mild temper! How could he just suddenly decide to get up and kill someone's boss? If these were normal days, Japan and America would already be at war.

"Y-You killed Reynolds?"

Japan's head snapped up as if he just then realized Italy was in the room. Italy felt faintly sick. What else did Japan do? However, it seemed like Japan was worried about something else. "...Now you know," he whispered, almost to himself. "Vietnam knew. Finland knew. Now you know."

And before he knew it, Japan had grabbed Italy's wrists. "Japan!" Italy cried, alarmed.

"Watch out, Italy-kun! They'll go for you next!" Japan said, his eyes boring into Italy's with worry and panic. "The killers are striking down everyone that knew about me killing Reynolds! You'll have to watch it from now!" Japan looked searchingly into Italy's eyes. "Will you promise me that you'll start watching out for yourself?"

Italy could only look back and nod numbly. Japan's fingers tightened momentarily around his wrists before he let go and jumped up from his chair, grabbing his coat in a frenzy. "W-Where are you going, _Nihon_?" Italy asked.

"I'm going to see America," Japan said grimly, throwing his arms into the sleeves. "I need to tell him about this development. Hopefully he'll have some answers."

"And if he doesn't?"

Japan smiled wryly. "We're not detectives for nothing, Italia-kun." He placed his hand on the doorknob and was about to leave when Italy suddenly cried out again.

"W-Wait, Japan!"

The Asian nation turned around, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm...I'm going with you. To Hanoi, I mean. Y-You are going to go...right?" Japan stood there, studying Italy for a while before sighing.

"I'm going in one week. I'll call you before I leave." Italy smiled and leaned back, relaxing.

"Thanks, _Nihon_."

~*~-~*~

Japan instantly made it back to America's room and wasted no time in getting straight to the point.

"We are what your people call, _royally fucked_!" he exclaimed upon entering and dropping heavily in his chair. America's face was already sallow and terrified when Japan arrived, but now he seemed ready to faint.

"Why?" he asked weakly.

"Vietnam is gone and Hanoi is destroyed," Japan sighed, clenching his fists. "Everyone who knows about Reynolds is gone."

"Shit!" America snarled. "When did she go missing? And What about Germany and Italy?"

"Last night," Japan answered. "I knew I shouldn't have brought her into this. Germany and Italy were stuck in an explosion and Germany lost his eye. Italy was gassed apparently, but they'll both live. Vietnam..." Japan trailed off, gritting his teeth at the thought of those monsters putting their hands on his sister.

"She's tough," America said, trying to give Japan a smile, although it came out pathetic and strained. "I'd be worried more about the killers than about her." This didn't make Japan feel any better as he leaned back in his chair and let out an agitated breath.

"What is going on?" he groaned.

"I don't know," America replied. "But we definitely can't spill the beans to anymore people about Reynolds. No matter what." Japan removed his hands from his face and looked at the other nation. His usually vibrant blue eyes were tense with anxiety. He fidgeted uncomfortably, as if wanting to spring from his bed and race somewhere.

"Bad news?" Japan guessed with dread, his own anxiety rising like a tsunami. America stared at him momentarily, as if just now realizing he was in the room and gave a feeble nod.

"Yeah. Canada called me in a blind panic."

"Oh no," Japan groaned, once again burying the heels of his hands into his eyes. Now Canada was under attack. No wonder America seemed so tense.

"Cuba is dead, and Canada's convinced someone is watching him. Someone bad."

"Cuba?" Japan asked, confused. He thought back to when America was first admitted into the hospital here in China. Canada clearly said he was going to visit Cuba right after he left, then Cuba showed up dead. The killers were obviously sending a message to the younger North American brother. Was Canada next on their list? Or was Canada one of them?

"I'm worried sick, Kiku," America said softly. "If anything happens to Matthew, I don't know what I'll do."

"Nothing is going to happen to him," Japan said, although not really believing it. The killers always had the upper hand and were always three steps ahead of he and Italy. Then again, last he checked, two against seven was never a fair fight. America let out a breath and leaned back against the pillows.

"I told him to come to my room and stay with me, but he said he doesn't want to be anywhere near me if he's being stalked. He's staying at his own house and increasing his national defense, but I think even he knows it won't do much good," America said, his tone laced with deep worry. "They took out Russia, China, and me without even breaking a sweat. That's three of the world's super powers out for the count. What are they made of? This kind of thing would take billions, no, trillions of dollars to accomplish!" America sighed angrily. "And why attack Canada? Why did they only put me, Russia, and China out of commission instead of killing us when they had the chance? It doesn't make any sense!"

"I don't know their angle," Japan said, feeling his own frustration rise. "I don't know how they arranged all of this under our noses, and how they're keeping their identities secret. All I know is that they leave no one alive in the capitals they destroy, meaning there are no witnesses."

"This kind of organization would take years to form and plan out," America said, his eyes narrowing. "Killing nations is no easy task, but these seven are doing it like it's nothing." America's face broke into fear, and he let out a desperate whimper. "Japan, Canada doesn't stand a chance! He's going to be killed! And...and I'm...I'm..._useless." _The word was dragged out and Japan heard the pain in the younger country's voice. He wasn't used to being powerless. He was used to being a hero at the top of the world, now he could barely walk.

"I have to leave in one week," Japan said after a moment of heavy silence. America's head turned from where he was staring out the window to give Japan a fearful look. It was enough to send a jolt of pain through Japan's chest. America obviously didn't want to be left alone, not when his brother was on the verge of being murdered, and especially not when he was feeling powerless.

"H-Huh? Why?" Japan bit his lip and looked down at his hands.

"Vietnam is my sister, and I'm the only one who can still help her people. China's practically comatose, Taiwan's not going to be walking anytime soon, and Korea can't do it alone."

"What about Hong Kong? Why can't he help?"

"Hong Kong is killing himself over Taiwan," Japan sighed. "And even if he wasn't he relies too heavily on China to be much use in situations like this. Italy-kun is coming with me." America gulped roughly but managed another strained smile.

"Well, I can't keep you from helping your family," he murmured softly, although Japan detected the faint underlying grudging tone. Japan stood up and took America's hands in his own and pressed his lips to the other nation's forehead.

"I'll only be gone for two weeks, I promise," he murmured. "And I'll call you." America nuzzled his cheek tenderly.

"Just be safe, okay?"

"I will." Japan sighed and and let his chin rest on America's shoulder.

"And on a lighter note, they're discharging me later this week, the day before you leave, actually," America chirped. Japan pulled back, and looked at America in disbelief.

"So soon?"

"Uh huh! We get to be roomies, darlin'!" Japan merely smiled and patted the younger nation's head tenderly.

"At least there's some good news."

~*~*~

Japan stared up at the ceiling of his home, blankets drawn to his chest as he knotted his restless fingers together. The small white cat Greece had given him as a kitten was resting peacefully by his side, curled up and purring. She unwound slightly as Japan began stroking her head once finger-knotting became an ineffective means to channel his nervous energy. He let out a slow breath, slightly irritated he wasn't able to fall asleep.

Japan knew this sudden spring of insomnia was due to America sleeping just down the hall instead of in the same bed as him. Of course they were still very early in their relationship, but that didn't stop Japan from being slightly disappointed when the younger country had agreed to the arrangements without a question as to why they couldn't sleep together. He was leaving for Vietnam's house tomorrow, and wished to spend at least one night with America, so had hoped the conversation would be along the lines of,

"_Here's your room."  
_

"_Oh, why can't I sleep in the same bed as you?"  
_

_"Well, you can, I was merely being polite and giving you your privacy."  
_

_"Silly Japan! I don't need to hide anything from you."  
_

_"Well then, right this way to __**our**_ _room."  
_

Instead, it had been along the entirely more depressing lines of,

"_Thanks Japan, this room is great!"  
_

_"My room is just down the hall in case you need anything, but you've been here plenty of times so…"  
_

_"You're the best! I promise not to bother you too much. Good night."  
_

Bitterly, Japan recalled all the times America had asked to sleep together after watching a scary movie, and all the times he had simply fled the scene. If only he knew then what he knew now.

The cat gave an annoyed meow as Japan accidentally petted her fur the wrong way.

"Oh, _gomen_, Sakura-chan," he apologized. Japan flushed as the name escaped him, remembering its origins. Greece had given her to Japan on one of their dates to the Sakura Festival. Japan grimaced. Well, that was one little bit of information America didn't need to know.

Suddenly, he heard the door to his bedroom slide open painstakingly slow. Japan felt his heart race and body stiffen. Was it a killer coming to attack him while he was asleep? If so, he was more than ready. Ever so slowly, he moved one hand under the stack of pillows by his head and felt for the smooth sheath of his katana. Japan closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, making sure his breathing was even.

Sakura, sensing her master's unease hopped off the bed and padded towards the opening door. Japan's fingers found his katana and clutched the handle, ready to free it from its sheath and plunge it into the intruder's chest. Although he was slightly afraid, he controlled it, readying himself for battle.

"H-Hey, Japan, are you awake?" Japan was instantly relieved, but utterly caught off guard when he heard America's voice. He instantly let go of his katana and lifted his head to find the taller country huddled just outside the door, Sakura in his arms.

"America, what is it?" Japan sat up entirely. Sakura gave another mewl and curled into America's arms, purring contentedly. Japan felt a slight twinge of guilt when America rubbed her under her chin with one finger. He had a feeling the other nation might not have taken to the cat so well had he known she was a gift from a former lover.

"Um," America began uncertainly. Never before had Japan witnessed the normally happy-go-lucky nation appear so unsure of himself, shuffling his socked feet uncomfortably. "I-I had a nightmare. Is it okay if I sleep with you? I-I mean, you know, t-to protect you! Yeah!" Japan's heart began to race for an entirely different reason and he managed a stiff nod. America's troubled expression turned into a strained, nervous smile. "O-Oh, really? U-Um, th-thank you! I-I mean…" he swallowed roughly, obviously coming to the conclusion that he didn't have the ability to say anything worth saying, and merely stepped into the room, limping profusely.

Japan watched as America slid the door shut behind him and made his way to the side of Japan's bed. Placing Sakura on the mattress he sat down and brought his knees up to his chest. Japan merely stared at him, unsure of what to do. Greece had been the one to initiate everything and now Japan found himself lost.

"I-I'm sorry," America apologized. He let his chin rest on his knees. It made him appear younger, smaller and more fragile. Sakura trotted to the edge of the bed and curled in on herself before falling back asleep.

"Oh, no need to be sorry," Japan said. Without the glasses, America's eyes were absolutely piercing, even if they weren't looking directly at you. Japan felt his heart grow heavy when his reassurance had no effect on America's apologetic demeanor. With a bit of a half smile, Japan scooted closer, leaving a few inches of space between them. "I have to admit, sleeping alone in this very dark room was becoming rather frightening." America turned to look at him, and gave a grin.

"That's why I'm here, to make sure you're safe!" he declared.

"Oh, well I guess a nice hug--" Japan was promptly interrupted as America unexpectedly lunged and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, thus tackling him back into the bed. Japan felt all the air rush out of his lungs as the considerably heavier country landed on top of him. "America…I'm…old, remember?" he wheezed out.

"Oh, sorry!" America exclaimed propping himself on his elbows so he was looking down. Japan merely smiled and lifted a hand to pat the younger nations head.

"It's okay, just be gentle. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Aw, you don't look a day over twenty," America laughed.

"Be that as it may," Japan said. He hesitantly moved the hand on top of America's head until it rested on his cheek. Japan let out a silent breath of relief when America didn't appear repulsed. However, he felt a shock of warmth shoot down his arm and pool in his chest as America leaned into his touch. He felt the heat of America's body through his nemaki along with the firmness of his muscles and heartbeat. Japan gulped roughly. "Well, if you're scared we can turn the hall light on," he offered, trying to keep his voice from quaking. America snorted as if the very idea were ridiculous.

"No nightmare is enough to scare the hero! It.." America's grin faded and a pained look overtook his normally sunny features. His eyes became downcast. "It wasn't that bad," he murmured, obviously lying. Japan tilted his head slightly, and moved his hand so he was brushing America's hair out of his eyes.

"What was it about then?" America bit his lower lip and gave a shaky sigh.

"I…I dreamed about my states." Japan felt his own expression sadden and allowed the back of his fingers brush America's cheek.

"I'm sorry."

"I miss them."

"I know."

"They were all just little kids," America's voice trembled. "They didn't do anything wrong. Anything they did wrong was because of me. And Delaware…" America looked into Japan's eyes and the smaller nation saw the pain and grief within them. "I can't get him out of my head," he whispered. "I can't stop thinking about him, what I could have done. I-If I hadn't have talked back to Mr. Reynolds that day, he would have let me stay and maybe I could have--"

"Don't mention that man's name!" Japan snapped. America's mouth closed, and his eyes grew wide with Japan's unusual display of anger. "That man's the reason this is all happening. He's the reason Vietnam--" Japan stopped himself, trying to reel in his sudden bout of rage. He didn't want to think of what had become of his sister, what horrors the killers, or whoever else wanted Reynolds dead, put her through.

"I'm sorry." America lowered his face. Japan felt another pang of guilt at his outburst. The America he knew would have come back with insults flying, but he was in the midst of grief and realizing a part of himself was lost forever. America didn't cry, but even if he had Japan doubted it would make much of a difference. Grief was grief whether or not it was fully expressed. Japan let out a sigh and let his fingers trail into America's hair.

"No, I'm sorry. Still, do you want to tell me what the dream was about?" America's eyebrows arched upwards sadly.

"It wasn't that bad," he repeated.

"You're trembling."

"Am not!"

"Must be my imagination then."

"Stop teasing me! You're worse than England!" Japan gave a soft laugh when he lowered his gaze to see America giving a childish pout.

"Alright, you don't have to tell me. Good night." Japan closed his eyes and feigned slumber.

"Hey, don't fall asleep before me!" America cried. "I don't want to be by myself!" Japan cracked open one eyelid.

"Well, then why don't you keep me awake by telling me what that dream was about?" America let out a slow, unsteady breath.

"I…I was in a field…and there were fifty coffins," he whispered.

Japan remained silent as America lowered his head so his chin rested on his chest. "There wasn't anyone else around and I was trapped with them. Delaware was the only one there. He was staring at me and he kept asking me 'Why? Why didn't you protect us?'" America wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist, although the darkness made it impossible to tell if it was really needed or not. "And I couldn't answer him."

"Was that all?" Japan asked, letting his head tilt back until he was staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah. Pretty stupid, huh?" America gave a miserable chuckle.

"No," Japan disagreed. "No, it just shows that you're grieving."

"Is that what this is?" America asked in a mockingly shocked voice. "I just thought I was bummed because you didn't want me sleeping in the same bed as you." Japan's eyes widened at this, and he raised himself a bit too quickly on his elbows, causing his and America's foreheads to collide.

"Ow!" they both cried at the same time. Japan was first to recover, and while America was still rubbing his head in pain, Japan instantly bowed (or bowed as well as one could while lying on their back) and began apologizing.

"It's okay," America reassured, smiling once the pain subsided. "Such a blow could never harm the true hero of the world!"

"America?" Japan asked, averting his gaze. He was thankful for the darkness, knowing he was infuriatingly red.

"Hmm?"

"Did…Did you really want to sleep with me from the beginning?" Japan stared at the dark outline of the nightstand further away.

"Um, in what context?" Japan let his other hand rest over his eyes as mortification pounded him like rain. Why did everything with America have to be such a challenge?

"I meant sleeping in the same bed, _ecchi,_" he muttered.

"Oh!" America exclaimed. "Oh." There was silence for a moment. Japan felt as if his stomach were tied in a knot, the hand still touching America's cheek mechanically stroking it just to have something to do. They had only kissed four times now that Japan really thought about it, and only two of them had been serious. Still, even they were relatively innocent. "Well, yeah. I thought that's what you were supposed to do when you started dating someone."

"Not necessarily," Japan answered. "However, I was hoping you'd do so."

"Really?" America said, dare Japan think, delighted? "You wanted me with you?"

"Yes," Japan answered.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I wasn't sure if you wanted the same." More silence. Japan didn't dare turn his head to look at America. Things with Greece had never been so complicated. Japan never had to spell things out for him. From the beginning they had slept in the same bed, from the very first time they...

Okay, best to put that out of his mind when America was above him.

Japan held is breath as he felt something soft press on his cheek. He turned his head and was met by two bright blue orbs and a smile that was finally natural instead of strained and anxious.

"Of course I wanted to be with you from the beginning," America whispered softly. Then as a afterthought, he added, "You're too cute Japan." America was so close to him, he could feel the other's breath on his lips and the slight tickle of his hair on his face. Japan's fingers softly slid down America's temple, tucking a few loose hanging strands of blond behind his ear.

Japan felt America take his other hand and curl their fingers together. They were so close now their foreheads touched and their mouths opened slightly, as if about to ask a question. However, they both remained silent. Their legs intertwined and Japan felt his heart ache with longing. It had been so long since there was someone like this, someone who made him feel warm. Greece was the only one he remembered, and now that America was here, he realized how lonely he'd been.

"Alfred," he whispered softly, before using the hand on America's cheek to bring the other country's lips to his. It started out just touching, both unsure. Greece was always the one to lead, even when they first began their relationship. However, America seemed to prefer waiting for Japan to tell him what he wanted.

Japan tentatively let his tongue run across America's lower lip, and tightened his hold on the younger nation's hand when he did the same. America opened his mouth and Japan followed, allowing him to explore. In return, he mapped out America's lips, tilting his head for better access and letting the tip of his tongue trace the younger country's lips before delving inside. It remained slow, but deep, exploratory and gentle.

America was far less skilled than Greece, but he wasn't clueless. Japan felt a nasty lash of jealousy towards his missing sister, but squandered it. He didn't need to think right now. All he needed was to continue this soothing dance of movement and warmth, to feel America's tongue against his own. For the first time in centuries, he allowed his mind to go white, giving in completely to the building emotions inside of him.

Suddenly, America pulled back, laughing. Japan felt the loss of contact and involuntarily shuddered, unaware he was panting lightly.

"Why are you laughing?" he demanded. America quieted himself and placed his own free hand on Japan's cheek.

"Your kitty probably thinks we're nuts." Japan raised his head slightly and sure enough found Sakura staring at them, tail twitching every so often. It was creepy to say the least.

"Sakura-chan, go away!" he ordered in Japanese. Sakura tilted her head but obediently hopped down from the bed and padded to the door. There she worked open a crack with her paw and silently slipped out. Once the cat was gone, Japan turned his head back up to America. "Now where-" He was silenced as America's kissed him again. He couldn't hold down a laugh and shifted down so that they were level. It was as if they had never stopped.

Japan felt America's fingers brush the longer strands of hair off of his cheeks and he did the same, admiring how soft and straight it was. Somehow these touches were more intimate than the kiss, tender and sure rather than the simple inquiry of their mouths.

He signaled America to pull back and began to kiss the other nation's neck, nuzzling it lovingly. Japan felt the his pulse on his lips and let out a breathy sigh as America pressed kisses into the top of his head. Japan closed his eyes, and let his tongue flicker out to taste America's skin. America shivered and raised his head to briefly find Japan's mouth, then trailed his lips down the Asian nation's neck to the collar of his nemaki.

Japan shifted his legs so that America was between them and moved his hand from his face to wrap around his back and bring their chests together. He was sure to be gentle, knowing too much motion still hurt the younger nation, but America gave no indication his injuries were bothering him in the least. Japan felt America work his free hand under his back and cradled the back of Japan's head in his palm. They let go of each other's hands in favor of fully holding each other.

Japan tilted his face back and nuzzled America's cheek tenderly, and curled one knee upwards against his side. Their breaths were becoming harsher and Japan arched his back in order to press himself completely against the person above him. America kissed his forehead, the bridge of his nose, and then finally his lips again before pulling back and simply looking.

Japan stared up at him, his lips tingling and his body warm and aching for more attention. America's eyes were filling his vision. The world melted away in that moment. There were no killers, or missing nations presumed dead. There was just this room and this person, who he had risked everything for, returning feelings he hadn't had since Greece. America was all that existed, Japan wanting his touch more than anything.

As if reading his mind, America's hand worked itself out from beneath Japan's head to ghost over his neck and halt at the opening of his nemaki. He leaned forward and kissed Japan's temple, propping himself back up on his elbows.

"Is this okay?" America questioned softly as he slid his hand inside Japan's robe. Japan let out a shaky breath as the warmth of America's palm spanned over his chest and to his shoulder. Then, his eyes widened as America's hand slipped behind his back and came into contact with the scars from the radiation burns. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but immediately, America's face grew horrified, and he jerked away as if he'd been burned.

"America?" Japan asked, sitting up and self-consciously tugging his nemaki back over his shoulder. The warmth he felt became unpleasant as shame overtook him. Of course America was disgusted at the sight of his scars, but Japan felt a flair of anger towards the other nation. America had been the one to inflict them, yet it made _him _undesirable?

His eyes narrowed, and he turned away from America. Maybe this was a mistake. His scars seemed to throb, as if determined to remind him they were still present and that the person he was ready to give himself over to had put them there. This had been a bad idea from the start, and suddenly Japan found himself wanting the familiarity and simplicity that came with Greece.

"I-I'm so sorry," America stuttered from behind him. Japan refused to face him, but felt his heart shatter as America's arms wrapped around him and his lips pressed against his neck. "You've been…" America's strained voice trailed off and his arms tightened around Japan's chest. "Even after what I did to you, you've been so nice to me. I can…I can never repay you." Japan's racing heart didn't ebb, as he looked down at his hands, black hair falling in his face.

"You don't need to repay me," he murmured. America trembled against him for a moment before lifting a hand and placing it on Japan's back. The Asian nation's skin shivered involuntarily.

"Was I wrong, Japan?" Japan looked up at the ceiling, his eyes suddenly becoming hooded as he remembered seeing the remains of Nagasaki and Hiroshima after Fat Boy and Little Boy were dropped. He remembered the photos of blackened outlines of the unfortunate people who were disintegrated as soon as they hit the surface. Those people hadn't deserved it. They had done nothing wrong, but neither had the unaware soldiers at Pearl Harbor.

Japan had devastated America, even though at the time barely any of his people knew Pearl Harbor even existed. Yet, Japan knew he wouldn't have stopped fighting. Even after Germany and Italy surrendered, he kept on. He would of fought until it killed him, death better than defeat according to his boss.

"I don't know," was his answer. He felt America's head lift from his back until the other nation's chin was on his shoulder. "I can't answer that because a part of me says yes, but a part of me says no."

"You saved me though."

"Of course. You're my friend and I never want to see you hurt by anyone, even your boss," Japan murmured, lifting his own hands to cover America's.

"Kiku," America began his solemn tone melting away into nervousness again. Japan turned in America's arms and looking at the other nation curiously. America's eyes were downcast, but ever so slowly he lifted his head and took a deep breath. "Kiku, I…I love you." Japan's eyes widened in shock at this, his mouth opening soundlessly. America looked down at the blanket below them, his hair shielding his eyes from view.

"W-What?" Japan didn't know what else to say to that, but suddenly his chest felt tight and it was difficult to breathe. America looked up, his expression somewhat frightened.

"I love you," he repeated softly. In that moment he appeared so vulnerable Japan wanted nothing more than to take him in this arms and hide under the covers with him, to shield him from the world, from the killers, everything. Yet, he found he couldn't speak, instead, he leaned in and placed a soft, tender, lingering kiss on America's lips. He then curled into the larger nation's chest, much like he did when he was with Greece, pushing him over until they were both lying down again.

"Let's stay like this for awhile," he murmured against America's pajamas, closing his eyes peacefully. He was slightly ashamed of himself for not being able to say anything else, but America didn't seem to mind, merely wrapping his arms around Japan shoulders and taking a deep breath. Yes, this was fine. Japan didn't need to say it back, because America already knew.

Yet, had he looked up for only a moment, he would have realized America was weeping silently.

* * *

**Haha, sorry guys, but fanfic . net is being retarded right now. -.-; I typed out all the ANs and then it decides to not show. So my deepest apologies, but no shout-outs this time. T^T We're still really, really greatful for you guys and I would give each of you a hug!**

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**T^T Angel's putting up Half Moon Rising up for adoption, so if anyone wants it give us a memo.**

**Okay, our fanfic has a fanfic! XD (That's not confusing at all...) It's called Ask the Killers of SLK by Sakura-BlossomsXXX, and we urge you guys to participate and support it! Iy sounds like it's gonna be a lotta fun! :D We'll have the link up on our profile.**

**And from now on, Angel's going to be taking the wheel for the rest of Blue's Arc! Lucky's gonna be in shotgun. 8D**

**Well, I think that's it...**

**Ciaosies,**

**Lucky**


	24. Citizen X

Hey guys did you miss me? Angel is back, because I now stay up until midnight for you people writing this XD But don't feel bad, I love this arc, and Lucky has been so kind in handing me back the reins temporarily. Hope you like!

Disclaimer: We don't own Hetalia

* * *

"Ow!" Blue snarled as Purple's pliers worked their way into the bullet wound on his foot. "Can't you be more gentle?" Purple merely ignored him and continued his work on the other killer's foot, making sure he got every last piece. Of course Blue had been running around on a bad foot for nearly a week now, but after his spat with Vietnam, the younger killer finally admitted he wasn't able to walk. "Purple."

"I'm trying Blue, but Cuba got you really good. What were you thinking running around like that without getting this treated?" Purple nearly flinched as Blue gave a feral snarl, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Out of all the killers, Blue was the one nobody wanted to cross. Purple held to the notion Black was even cautious when dealing with him. If that were the case, Purple couldn't blame him.

"I was thinking I'd actually get something done instead of screw around like everyone else seems to!" he spat in disgust. "Ow!" Purple yanked out a particularly large bullet shard and quelled the flow of blood with a gauze towel.

"There's a difference from getting things done and killing yourself," Purple said, carefully poking around the injury to make sure he's gotten all the fragments out. "Lucky for you the pistol he used wasn't very strong or you might have lost this foot."

"Yeah, yeah," Blue muttered, crossing his arms childishly. Purple had a feeling he was actually pouting and held down a bubble of laughter. Laughing at Blue was a sure way to get decapitated, especially with how paranoid and distrustful the younger killer was. He might take laughter as Purple about to play a cruel trick on him.

Purple's eyes wandered to the cleaver resting against the wall not too far away. It was a horrible instrument, with a curved blade and a tiny point on the end. Purple imagined what it would be like to be killed by such a grotesque creation, to see yourself reflected in the blade as it came down, and resisted the urge to shudder. "I use it because it's painless." Purple startled a bit and glanced away from the cleaver to see Blue's icy eyes staring at him. Distrustful. Always distrustful.

Not to long ago, Blue trusted Purple with everything, but then again, times were changing and so were nations. As Purple studied Blue for the briefest of seconds, he realized with an aching heart that he barely knew who the other nation was anymore. It had taken him a week of running around on a damaged foot before he asked for help, and still he was tense, as if waiting (possibly _hoping_) for Purple to make a move against him.

"Painless?" Purple found himself repeating.

"Yes, Mr. Cleaver offers a painless and quick death." Purple had to scoff at this. English wasn't his first language, but how was being killed with something so monstrous considered painless? "One for sure way to kill a nation is to cut off its head," Blue explained softly, his eyes falling down to the injured foot on Purple's lap. "It's painless too, because they die instantly. That's how I try to kill. I don't want to cause pain."

"You sure went to town on Cuba," Purple pointed out as he started to wrap Blue's injured foot.

"I cut his head off though."

"That just makes everything better, huh?" Blue didn't answer him, not that he was really expecting anything. Purple rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to stick his fingers in the bastard's wound just to be cruel. Instead, he merely let out a halfhearted plea. "Just please be careful. Believe it or not, I'd hate to see anything happen to you." Another drag of uncomfortable silence stretched between them and Purple found himself resenting Blue, the way he changed, the way Black changed him. He knew it was all for the best, but it still..._hurt..._to remember how Blue used to be.

"Black says it won't work," Blue said suddenly, more to himself than to Purple, causing the other killer to resurface from his thoughts. Blue was no longer looking at him, but Purple took it upon himself to answer anyway.

"Black says a lot of things, but I've yet to see an instance where he's been wrong."

"So you're saying he's right and all of this is for nothing?" Blue's creepily void and dark eyes fixated on Purple again, his tone raised an octave, showing he was either getting scared or angry. From what Purple knew of Blue, it was more the latter.

"I'm saying you can't change fate, no matter how much you want to," Purple explained. "Dress a prostitute as a princess and at the end of the day, she's still working the corners."

"Princess Diana working the corners, classy," Blue snipped sarcastically. This time Purple allowed himself a chuckle.

"Don't let a certain somebody hear you say that," he warned playfully. Blue didn't appreciate his jab at humor and merely sighed. Purple coughed uncomfortably into his fist before gesturing to Blue's arm. The other killer studied him warily before sticking it forward. Purple lifted his sleeve and saw the injury inflicted by Vietnam's oar. "She certainly did a number on you," he remarked, cleansing the puncture wounds with alcohol and wrapping them with gauze.

"She nearly bit Yellow's fingers off today." Purple had to laugh at this.

"Serves him right if you ask me. He's far too rude for his own good. There, your arm is fixed for now."

"So, you making a trip to Hanoi along with Japan, Italy, Korea and Greece?" Blue asked after a moment of awkward staring. Purple knew he was being meticulously monitored by those hideously void eyes and spoke carefully.

"Ugh, don't remind me. It's my job to pick off the next nation. I still haven't decided who yet though, but luckily Hanoi isn't--"

"Korea," Blue interrupted. Purple blinked, momentarily taken aback.

"Um, what?"

"You are to take out Korea," Blue said. "I still need Italy, Japan, and Greece for my plan. So if you pick off a nation, it has to be Korea." Purple frowned slightly, unsure of what to say. He definitely didn't want to cross Blue, but he wasn't used to taking orders from anyone other than Black, and even then their leader got his fair share of complaints. Blue was glaring at him, every muscle tense as if waiting for Purple to object.

"Whatever you say," Purple finally agreed after a tense moment. "Just know that Black's right, you can't change fate."

"You don't think I can save him." It wasn't a question. Purple stared back at Blue, unblinking, taking in every ounce of muscle the younger killer possessed, recalling how easily he chopped through a human with one swing of that hideous cleaver.

"No. I don't think you can. And, I don't think you can save yourself either." At this, Blue finally laughed, but it wasn't sarcastic or arrogant. No, to Purple at least, it sounded…sad.

"Well, when I fail, at least I can say I tried," he reasoned once the laughing ceased. "I can say I tried to change my fate the only way I knew how instead of rolling over and accepting it."

"You're crazy," Purple finally said, mustering the courage to close the space between them and pull Blue into an embrace. For a moment it was those sweet times again, before Blue had stained himself with blood. "You both are going to die." Blue stiffened, but relaxed in Purple's arms until he was hugging the other killer back.

"I know," he whispered. "But I have to try or else I'll become something I don't want to be." Purple stroked the back of Blue's head tenderly and leaned down to kiss him on top of his head. He felt Blue trembling against him, driven to insanity by fear. It was awhile before Purple spoke again.

"You already are."

* * *

Japan woke the next morning to find the bed empty. However, it didn't necessarily worry him as he sat up groggily and looked at the clock. It was still early and he didn't need to be at the airport until noon, but there was still a lot he needed to do before he set off for departure. Yet, he refused to dwell on it, for as he threw his legs over the bed, his main priority was to find something in his fridge America might actually eat. He had a feeling rice and miso soup weren't exactly the younger nation's idea of a wholesome breakfast.

He rubbed his eyes, not wishing to think about the day to come and the following two weeks which were going to be nothing short of hellish. He knew he had to keep Italy close now that he had opened his mouth about Reynolds, and since Germany was out of commission, it was Japan's duty to protect him. Besides, he knew killers would be the least of his worries if Germany woke up to find so much as one hair out of place on Italy's head.

Japan yawned, descending the stairs and entering the kitchen, which opened up to the porch outside and over the expanse of Japan's vast gardens. Unfortunately, due to the winter, none of his flowers were growing, but the snow was still remarkably pretty.

Japan's eyes didn't rest on the scenery for long as he turned on the oven and reached into the refrigerator to reheat the pot of miso soup he made for himself a few nights prior. America would probably want something a little more greasy for breakfast, and he looked about his fridge to find something to use.

Unfortunately, the week before America's arrival, he hadn't had time to shop. Preparing for the trip and moving all important SDF forces to a more remote territory he didn't have the authority to even _think_ about had left him exhausted, and he couldn't bring himself to trudge through the snow to go to the market.

On top of this, something he hadn't bothered to dwell on the night before was positively torturing him. Greece had offered to join him in cleaning up Hanoi and looking for survivors. Japan wanted to refuse him partly because the situation promised to be awkward, but mostly because he didn't want America thinking he'd left him alone to run around with his ex.

Still, he knew they needed all the help they could get and ended up agreeing, but had yet to tell America this. He knew the younger country wouldn't take the news well, not when he was so scared of being alone in the first place. Plus being a source of extra worry for his new..._significant other _(that wasn't _too_ humiliating a term) was not on his list of wanted accomplishments.

Finding nothing sufficiently loaded with cholesterol, Japan let out a defeated sigh, closed the fridge, and looked out towards the porch again. This time, he was surprised when he saw America sitting on the edge, still in his pajamas, and one hand resting on a small dog's head. Pochi seemed to enjoy the attention, his scruffy tail wagging happily. Japan looked around briefly for Sakura, but didn't see her anywhere. Figuring she was off terrifying a bird's nest somewhere, he slipped into some shoes before heading outside.

"America, it's freezing out here," he commented as he slid open the door. America turned around and gave a gentle smile. Pochi barked happily at the sight of his master, rushing for Japan's feet. Japan bent down and ruffled the little dog's head, reminded briefly of Latvia and Kitty.

"Morning darlin', did you sleep well?"

"_Ohayou, anata." _He resisted the urge to frown at how strange it was to call America his own form of 'dear'. Thankfully, America didn't seem to ponder too deeply about it, saving them from yet another uncomfortable conversation. "More or less."

"I'm glad." America smiled pleasantly and Pochi barked in agreement. "You sure are a cuddler!" he laughed afterward. Japan instantly felt his face light up and involuntarily balled his hands into fists. Mistaking the other nation's mortification for anger, America raised his hands in an effort to make peace. "Hey, don't be mad! I thought it was cute. Plus it was..." he trailed off briefly, mustering the courage to continue, "nice...having someone there." America looked down, his own cheeks flushing. "You were really warm." Japan gulped and crossed his arms.

"Yes, it was...nice," he agreed, not bothering to mention America's reaction when he had felt the scars.

"I...I didn't...freak you out or anything last night, did I?" America asked tentatively, twisting his fingers together.

"No, how could you have 'freaked me out' as you put it?"

"You know, with...what I said," America murmured. Japan looked to the side, suddenly finding America's presence oppressive and uncomfortable. Oh right, the younger nation had dropped the 'ILY Bomb'. Japan bit his lower lip and shifted so all his weight was on his right leg. "Because I meant it," America continued when Japan didn't answer. "I meant it and I won't take it back, because I was just being honest, but if you want...I'll apologize." Japan's breath left his lungs slowly and stubbornly.

"No, you have nothing to apologize for," he finally said. His eyes rose and he found America looking at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to say more. Japan coughed into his fist to give him a moment to compose something intelligible to say. It came out quick and almost desperate. "Because...if you feel that way, there's nothing you can do to help it." Japan felt his heart twist with agony when America's expression became utterly hurt. Japan might as well have slapped him across the face, but it was quickly masked by a laugh and a fake cheerful grin.

"I guess I can't."

"So, what brings you outside so early?" Japan asked, hoping to change the subject and take his mind off of the awkwardly intense moment they shared the night before. Thankfully, America was more than willing to oblige.

"I couldn't really sleep last night," he explained. "So I figured I'd let Pochi out to do his business, but then I got to thinking and lost track of time." Japan silently sat next to him and felt his chest grow even heavier when he saw the worry marring the other nation's features, now coupled with poorly hidden heartbreak. Although he doubted it, if America were doing it on purpose, Japan knew he deserved it. Pochi gave one of his strange barks and hopped off the porch, promptly disappearing into the snow. Japan rolled his eyes, knowing finding him was going to be impossible.

"What about?" America gave him a strained smile.

"Canada. I tried to call him yesterday at the hospital before I was discharged, and he wouldn't pick up." America's smile faded and his fingers curled into his pajama bottoms. "He's pulling away and not letting me help."

"He just doesn't want you to get hurt," Japan reasoned.

"But I'm a hero and I'm his older brother," America argued. "I mean, I'm not asking to get involved. I just want him to call now and then to let me know he's still alive."

"I'm sure he has a lot to do," Japan said. "He might not get the chance."

"I even called England and France, and apparently he's even cut ties with them too. I know Cuba's death really screwed him up, but shit Japan, he's making himself even more of a target by isolating himself like this."

"That's his choice then," Japan answered, not sure what else to say. "You can't force someone to do as you like, no matter how much it's for their own good. Believe me, I've tried and Korea still hasn't completely forgiven me."

"I just don't want him to get hurt," America said quietly, staring intently at the upturned spot of snow Pochi vanished into. Japan let his head rest on the taller country's shoulder and took his hand.

"I know, but I don't want you getting hurt either. So maybe, as hard as it may be, you might want to stay out of this one. For my sake," he added quickly before America scolded him about not being a damsel in distress needing a hero to protect him. He relaxed when he felt America sigh.

"What time are you leaving for Hanoi?"

"I have to get to the airport by one o'clock to make it on time, so we have about four hours," he said. He felt America's cheek rest on top of his head and his fingers tighten around his own. It was silent for awhile, and Japan found himself pressing against America's side for warmth. He wished he could stay here forever, and not have to see what the killers had done to his sister.

"Hey Japan?" America asked after a moment. Japan lifted his head to look at the other nation.

"Yes?"

"It's just going to be you, Italy, and Korea, right?" America's cheeks were red, but whether it was from the cold or from embarrassment Japan wasn't sure. "Because, I…uh…sent some people over to help." Japan had half a mind to be offended, but he kept his mouth shut. Did America not trust him? Then again, he felt a nasty lash of guilt when he realized he hadn't told America the entire truth. Oh, who was he kidding? He was outright lying.

"Really?" Japan did his best to keep his voice low and even. America shifted uncomfortably as he absentmindedly toyed with Japan's fingers, looking down at them as if they were the most interesting things he had ever seen.

"Well, Vietnam and I…I just…" he ran his tongue across his lower lip before chewing on it nervously. "I want to help. We weren't close…or anything…but we had…" America trailed off, his face horribly red. "Did you know she couldn't tell the difference between a toad and a frog?" America laughed, although there was a sharp edge to it, as if it were forced down a notch from being hysterical. The hand that wasn't holding Japan's reached up to fiddle with his glasses. "I'm sorry." Japan felt even guiltier now. America was telling him he still cared for Vietnam enough to help her in her time of need. Yet, Japan couldn't tell America he was going to be spending a week with his ex. "Please don't be mad, but it's the least I can do…for her," America finished lamely.

"I'm not mad," Japan sighed, squeezing America's hand in reassurance, although he was slightly irritated and very nervous. What if one of America's people told him about Greece? And surely the news would report all the nations helping to restore the fallen capital.

"So you'd tell me, right?" Japan startled slightly and looked up.

"What?" America was completely apologetic, which made Japan feel worse.

"I…If someone else is going," America reminded timidly. Japan stared at him briefly, the guilt overwhelming. America was giving him an opening to tell him about Greece. It really shouldn't have been such a big deal. All he had to do was open his mouth and tell America the truth, but he found himself…embarrassed and worried. America was practically pulling his hair out over Canada and Japan didn't want to be the cause of any unnecessary stress. Yet, though he hated to admit it, quite frankly, he also didn't feel like having his integrity questioned.

"No. No one else is coming." Japan felt another lash of shame as America's face became utterly relieved. Why was he acting so dishonorably? He needed to tell America the truth, but he found his voice lodged in his throat like a corkscrew, unwilling to move. America didn't seem to notice, for once the anxiety burdening gone. At least Japan got that.

"Can you promise me something though?" Japan suddenly felt sick along with guilty. America trusted him completely, and he was being so dishonorable in lying to him. However, despite this he nodded.

"Promise me no matter what happens with these killers, you'll stay the same." Japan felt himself frown slightly at the strange request.

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused. America appeared shamefaced again and looked to the side, letting his palm rest on Japan's cheek briefly before taking his hand again.

"The thing is, I've been thinking a lot, not just about Canada, but about you too, and I can't help but worry about you."

"America, I can handle myself," Japan reminded, struggling hard not to sound irritated.

"I know, it's just...you were really scary in World War II. I mean, I saw what you did to China and to..." America gulped, and Japan felt the younger nation's fingers tighten around his own, "and to...and to me. I remember your face."

"My face?"

"Yeah, when you didn't stop, when you wouldn't stop. Your face and your eyes...they were...so…so _empty_." America paused. "That's what scared me most of all about you. You were never afraid of me, never afraid that I might kill you."

"My boss made me keep going," Japan murmured, remembering how he'd convinced many of his people to commit suicide just as America's troops invaded. Better death than to admit defeat. "I couldn't be afraid."

"But I know that's still in you somewhere," America whispered his tone strained and fearful, letting the back of Japan's hand rest on his warm cheek. "I know that if they push you, that thing you were will come back. I know, because it's in me too."

"It's in all of us," Japan replied. "You and me."

"My Lai was just one of many," America told softly, his blue eyes suddenly haunted as they stared off into the snow, fixated on some long ago event. He moved Japan's hand from his cheek back down to his lap. "The Japan I love is the Japan now. So you have to promise me that no matter what happens, you won't ever sink to their level, okay? Don't cause pain just because you're hurting and want someone else to hurt with you. In the end it's never worth it, both you and I know that so...I just want you to be happy, okay?" America fixed him with another warm and loving smile. It was almost too much to look at and it took all Japan had not to avert his gaze. "That's all I'll ever ask of you, is for you to be happy." Japan suddenly wanted to cry. Was this really all America wanted? For him to stay the same?

He suddenly felt numb, the only feeling coming from the unbearable pressure steadily building behind his ribs. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around America's shoulders and drew him into an embrace.

"I promise," he whispered.

"Thank you. Now, just come back to me safe, darlin'." He tipped their foreheads together, his smile so close. It was the happiest Japan had seen him in weeks. "Hey, do want to teach me some kanji?" Japan blinked, forcing himself to smile and chuckle, shoving his guilt down to the deepest recesses of himself.

"Of course, but I should warn you that it's very difficult for Westerners such as yourself to learn," he said, his tone purposely flippant to provoke the other nation.

"Is it now?" America's eyes glinted with the prospect of a challenge, and he grinned widely, clenching his fist. "Ha! You'll see! I'm the United States of fucking America! I can do anything!" the younger nation declared, standing up abruptly. "Come on, Japan, it's kanji time!" America turned abruptly, and limped inside, Pochi suddenly springing forth from the snow and landing on the porch. The little dog shook himself violently before racing after America, barking wildly. Japan merely shook his head, smiling softly as the wind blew his hair across his forehead. Without much more thought, he stood and went inside.

Later that day, as America was at the front door holding Sakura with Pochi at his feet, there was a contented smile on his face as he waved Japan off.

"Remember your promise, and stay safe!" Japan self-consciously waved back, the guilt suddenly resurfacing at America's unknowing (stupid) belief in him. America trusted him and even…even…_loved _him. Somehow, this only made Japan feel dirty and revolting. He didn't deserve America's love and trust because he blatantly lied. As he walked down the path and looked over his shoulder to catch one last look at the younger nation's face, he somehow knew with a churning, sick feeling in his gut…

…it was going to be the last time he'd ever see America smile.

* * *

Italy watched as Japan worked, his mind a thousand miles away as they picked through the rubble that was once the bustling city of Hanoi. Once crowded and full of life, it was now just a deserted wasteland. Pathetic remains of buildings, which were once people's homes and places of business, were now reduced to charred skeletons. Somehow Italy thought of emaciated cattle, only standing because it was all they had the strength left to do, no longer someone's livelihood, just left to rot.

As soon as they arrived, they were ordered not to drink the water, for every supply had been poisoned nearly beyond cleaning. Greece had given Japan's shoulder a comforting squeeze, yet Italy saw the look of clear discomfort in his friend's troubled brown eyes. It was obvious he was avoiding Greece, even Italy could see that, and the two hardly spoke.

They had met Korea on the first day, as he had arrived early and already had his help station set up. Although Korea appeared cheerful and sunny as ever, Italy didn't miss the dark circles under his eyes as he explained his progress to the other three nations, which sadly wasn't much considering his own lack of resources since China's meltdown.

They hadn't seen a single living thing in the capital, only a few wandering families covered in burns and grime on the more remote streets. Japan had been quick to offer them refuge at his house, and for the most part, they were ready to accept. However, most of Vietnam's surviving people fled to China, Laos, and Cambodia, probably never to return.

Now they were before what used to be Vietnam's house. Once a grand estate, it could only be considered a pile of rubble. The koi in the pond were all floating belly up in the poisoned water, while the few palm trees lay overturned in her front yard. Italy had noticed the way Japan had stared at the koi for what seemed like hours before he soundlessly went to pick around the rubble.

Italy wished there was something he could do to make Japan feel better. It was apparent he blamed himself for all of this, convinced the reason Vietnam disappeared was that she knew about Reynolds. He watched Japan's hunched back as he picked up the remains of a window. Italy felt a pang in his heart, knowing the reason Japan refused to leave his side.

Forcing himself to look away from his friend, Italy checked his watch, surprised it was already four-thirty. They were all to meet by Vietnam's house at around five o'clock. Greece was on the other side of the capital in the east district, while America's people were in the north. Korea was in the south, still hunting for survivors. There had been none from the capital so far.

Italy stopped his own work and looked about the city. The urge to throw up had long since passed, but he still felt absolutely horrible. Although he had yet to really see Rome, he knew it's fate was the same as Hanoi's. Italy startled when he heard Japan curse behind him.

"Ve, _Nihon_, are you okay?" he questioned.

"Yes, I just cut myself on a piece of glass," Japan answered shortly, obviously on edge. Italy sighed.

"Let's take a break and I'll make us some pasta," he suggested. Japan stared at him as if he were one of Tony's relatives. Italy merely gave a small laugh, coughing a bit on the smoggy air (or on what he told himself was the smoggy air--there was a coppery taste in his mouth he didn't want to think about). "Come on Japan, I've been watching you work all day and you need a break!" Japan turned to the remains of Vietnam's house, then nodded, brushing his hair back from his face.

"I suppose I do."

"Great!" Italy declared, instantly getting his traveling cooking kit ready and setting it up on the ground. Oh how he love it, complete with a full assortment of silverware and a small, battery operated heater. Next, he reached into this pack and withdrew a pot and a gallon of their rationed spring water. "Always come prepared, especially for pasta!" Italy declared.

"Just try not to use too much of your water," Japan warned, reaching into his own pack to withdraw his first aid kit. Italy didn't respond as he began readying the pasta, his mouth practically watering at the thought of the delicious noodles on his tongue. After the water began boiling he placed the carefully handmade noodles inside and looked up to see Japan staring into the pot as if searching for an answer to some particularly difficult problem. He wasn't even paying attention to his cut finger, blindly rubbing the disinfectant ointment, not even flinching at the horrible sting. Italy grimaced.

"Are you really okay?" he asked warily, feeling his brows furrow in concern. Japan blinked and glanced up, giving a weak smile.

"I'm not disguising it too well, am I? I apologize, I didn't mean to burden you with any unnecessary worry." At this, Italy noticed a clear flash of guilt in the other nation's eyes and he bandaged his finger. Italy gave him a warm smile and scooted around the pot until he was sitting next to Japan and then wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"You never have to worry about causing me 'unnecessary worry'," Italy assured happily, giving the other nation a squeeze. "You're my friend Japan, and I want to help you. So, you can tell me anything." Italy felt his smile falter, saddened to find that instead of making Japan feel better, it only seemed to make him feel worse as he brought his knees to his chest.

"I don't deserve that," Japan murmured, his brown eyes falling to the bubbling water in the pot. "I don't deserve that at all." Italy blew through his lips.

"Sure you do! Everybody deserves a friend who will listen to them."

"Not after I tell you what I've done," Japan whispered, his hands clenching into fists in his dark pants. Italy instantly felt alarm mix with his concern.

"What did you do that could be worse than killing a boss?" he asked. He remembered forcing Japan to tell him everything on the plane, torn between wanting to slap some sense into the Asian nation and being touched by the obvious love he had for America. It was Finland that intrigued him the most though. He vanished right after witnessing the event. That in itself was suspicious, giving Italy new suspects, nations who wanted Reynolds gone. Including Canada and America himself. He just hoped for Japan's sake America was innocent.

"It's not quite that serious, but it's unforgivable nonetheless."

"You're probably overreacting then," Italy assured. Japan's eyes were heavy as he gazed forward, seemingly lost in thought. Italy tilted his head. "Try me. It can't be that bad."

"I lied."

"Lied about what?"

"I lied to America about Greece. I told him it was just going to be me, you and Korea." Italy suppressed the urge to hiss through his teeth. Now he knew why Japan was obviously avoiding his ex. "I'm horrible."

"No," Italy laughed, taking the time to stir the noodles. "You just made a mistake, that's all. Just explain it to America, I'm sure he'll understand."

"No, he won't," Japan answered miserably, hiding his face in his knees. Italy felt himself frowning.

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"He's so…" Japan paused, lifting his head to watch Italy work on their food, "…_emotional_. More emotional than anyone I have ever met. It would break his heart if he found out I was here with Greece."

"But that doesn't give you the right to lie to him," Italy pointed out.

"I _know_." It came out as a moan. Italy sighed and sat back, letting his weight rest on his hands.

"Just call him and tell him the truth. You need to Japan, because if you don't, then he'll _really_ think something happened between you and Greece, and then it's going to get ugly. I mean, sure he might be a little upset, but that's better than how he'll feel if he finds out from one of his people that you lied to him." Japan shivered lightly, despite the humid air.

"I can't. I can't be the cause of anymore worry. He's already stressed about Canada. I…I can't do that to him," Japan argued.

"Think what it will do to him when one of his people tells him," Italy pointed out. Japan didn't answer for a long time and for once, Italy found himself growing impatient. "Japan, this is an easy fix, even I know that. All you have to do is be honest. You love America."

"I wouldn't go that far," Japan piped up, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment. "I care about him a great deal, that's all."

"You killed his boss and now he's living with you. Sure you don't love him," Italy replied sarcastically. "Besides, you told me he was your world a week before we left, remember?"

"I was merely upset, that's all," Japan replied, utterly miserable. "I let my emotions get the better of me and said something I didn't mean." Italy fought the urge to stand up and dropkick Japan in the head. However, Italy was never one to resort to violence, no matter how frustrated he became, and easily reeled the urge in.

"Why are you so stubborn about this?" Italy found himself asking. For once, Japan stared him directly in the eyes, his appearance haggard and almost frightening.

"Because he said he loved me," he told, voice strained. "Even after what I did to him."

"Did you say it back?" the smaller nation questioned, dreading the answer.

"No." Italy rubbed his temples and let out an annoyed breath. America probably thought his love was unrequited, rather than come to the obvious conclusion that Japan was emotionally retarded. "I can't say it back, because I don't know if I really mean it."

"You seemed really sure when I was yelling at you back at the hospital."

"Again, my emotions were heightened and I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Japan," Italy groaned wearily. "Why are you so against falling in love with someone again?" He paused, thinking hard. Of course, common sense wasn't his strong suit, but then again since when could love be explained by such means? France lectured to him many times that love was stupid, love was blind, love wasn't about making rational decisions. It meant that it was something Italy knew well, which was why he found his eyes widening as realization came over him. He gawked at Japan's hunched figure. "Oh Lord, are you still in love with Greece?" He watched as other nation flinched before he whispered a shaky,

"I don't know." Again, Italy had the urge to connect his heel with the top of Japan's head. It felt strange to want to hurt someone, but he knew he'd never act on it. He bit his lip against a sudden lash of grief when he was reminded of Romano. Instead he focused back on the subject at hand.

"How could you not know?"

"Because I don't!" Japan snapped, his face flush with shame. "America is…I…I've never felt this way about _anyone_ before." Italy remained silent as he continued, almost desperate. "When I was with Greece-kun, everything was so simple. I-I was always happy because Greece-kun always made sure of it. Everyday was something new I could look forward too, but with America…" he trailed off briefly, wetting his lips against the humid air around them. "Italy-kun, everything is just so…_hard _with him_. _I find myself pushing it to the limit, trying so hard to make _him _happy, and lately, all I think about is America: what he's doing, what he's thinking about, if his wounds are healing properly. Greece-kun, I never had to worry with him. I never had to try, nor did I even have the drive to try if the occasion called for it. This…this scares me." Italy's expression saddened.

"You shouldn't be afraid of it, Japan," he said. "What you're feeling is beautiful and very, very rare. You should embrace it."

"I don't want it," Japan murmured irritably. "I only killed Reynolds because America was being hurt and he's my friend. I never wanted to feel…this way."

"Why not?"

"Because it will hurt me, and I don't deserve it," Japan answered. "America told me he loved me, and my response? I lie through my teeth right to his face, and that wasn't even the first time. Pearl Harbor is a primary example, but he…he _trusts _me completely and I lied to him because I was embarrassed. However, now I'm not only embarrassed, but utterly humiliated and disgusted with myself." Japan shuddered, closing his eyes. "I never thought it was going to be so difficult." Italy studied him briefly, heartbroken to hear Japan be so resistant to actually loving someone. Of course, he had been alone for a large portion of his life, and Italy figured it played into Japan's hesitance to form _any_ relationship, be it family, friends, or in this case, a lover.

"You're right to feel bad, but seriously, call him. Here." Italy reached into his pocket and withdrew a cell phone. Japan stared at it as if it were an alien device and made no move to take it.

"I can't," was all he managed to whisper, looking away from the offered item. Italy rolled his eyes in exasperation and pocketed the phone.

"You've dug yourself in a hole, you know that, right?" Again, Japan didn't answer. Italy was about to give it another go, when he felt something punch painfully on the inside of his stomach. The horrible coppery taste came back and he stood weakly. Japan stared up at him, alarmed. Italy merely gave a smile, restraining the urge to cough despite his watery eyes.

"I have to use the little boy's room, be back!" he chirped, before running behind the remains of Vietnam's mansion. Once he was sure Japan was out of sight and hearing range, Italy instantly fell to his knees, coughing wildly. He closed his eyes as his chest hitched, his back throbbing with each forceful scrunch of his lungs. Finally there was a splatter, and Italy slowly cracked his eyes open to see the blood on the ground. He stood slowly, breathing deeply, not so much worried as he was annoyed that it might hinder the investigation here. Coughing up blood was no surprise. It had been happening ever since Romano was killed, he'd just kept it hidden carefully from both Japan and Germany.

Italy had to be strong now. Too long had he been the weak hindrance, now he was the solid foundation the rest of the world was counting on. He remembered Iceland's frantic pleas for him to find Norway, and wiped the saliva and blood from his lips with the back of his hand. There were currently four nations missing, three out of commission, and eight dead. One was in grave danger, and Italy was determined to find the kidnapper before he struck. So, forcing the happy smile back on his face, he skipped back to Japan, who had taken it upon himself to strain the pasta and place it in four bowls.

"What time is it?" Japan pondered aloud, toying with his pasta, but making no move to actually eat it. Italy suppressed the urge to shove the fork full of perfectly good food down his throat and checked his watch.

"Almost five," he reported, chomping down on his meal. As soon as he said it, Greece came walking through the front gates, covered in dirt, his posture slumped, and his expression weary. Italy excitedly waved him over and watched the way Japan tensed as the other nation sat across from him, happily taking the bowl of pasta Italy offered.

"I haven't found anyone alive," he reported solemnly, twisting his fork around the bowl miserably. "We had to clean up a few temples and the market place down there is completely covered with fallen buildings. It seems the bombings hit there worst."

"That's terrible," Italy said sadly. "Where's Korea?"

"I don't know. He hasn't called, strangely enough," Greece murmured, still looking at the noodles. "Vietnam is in bad shape though. Not just Hanoi, but everything. The rice paddies around here have become nothing but toxic swamps." Japan's breath hitched from beside him, and Italy looked to find his teeth grit. Greece's face instantly became worried.

"Hey, don't worry. Your sister is one tough cookie. I'm sure she'll be fine once we get this place cleaned up," he assured.

"Please don't coddle me, Greece-san," Japan whispered. "Vietnam is dead. I know that."

"We _don't_ know though," Italy argued.

"Yeah Kiku, have a little faith," Greece agreed, his expression mildly hurt when Japan refused to look at him. Instead the Asian nation merely spoke to the ground.

"They're all dead. Norway, Denmark, Vietnam, and Finland, all of them. Helsinki is gone, and no matter how much Sweden-san tries to fix it, Finland isn't coming back." Japan made a frustrated sound as he buried his face in his arms.

"Where is all this coming from?" Greece asked, confused and still hurt.

"You know it's true," was all Japan said.

Italy was about to argue further, when his eyes caught something standing by the gates to the yard. He squinted, leaning forward slightly. What was it? On closer inspection, Italy felt his heart freeze in terror and he let out a rough gasp, latching onto Japan's arm. The figure was a person clad in a black long-sleeved shirt and pants, but that wasn't what scared Italy the most. No, it was that the dark figure had a red mask over his face, the painted mouth twisted into a demented smile. The horrible leer was all Italy could see from a distance, but it was enough.

"Japan! Greece! Look!" he cried out in alarm, pointing to the figure. The killer tilted his head briefly. Greece hurriedly turned around, his own shocked gasp escaping him. Japan lifted his head and something tightened around the Asian nation's weary eyes, Italy feeling the muscles of his arm tense. Italy looked up at the other country's face and was shocked to see pure fury instead of fear. "Japan…" he began worriedly, only to be cut off as Japan stood abruptly, Italy's grip dislodging.

"Kiku, what do you think you're doing?!" Greece demanded, rightfully terrified.

"Are you here to kill us!?" Japan shouted, his voice laced with venom. Italy blinked in surprise. This was totally out of character for Japan, who was usually so calm and collected, but it appeared his frustration with himself about how he treated America was soiling his common sense. The killer didn't answer or make any move towards them, just stood with his hands in his pockets. Japan scoffed, and Italy reached up to grab the hem of his relief uniform in attempts to tug him down. Yet, Japan stood firm, eyes blazing. "Well?" The killer merely continued to stare at them from his spot by the opening of the gate. Growling lowly, Japan bent down and picked up a broken board, before racing towards the killer. "You want to kill me, fine!" he shrieked. "I'll give you something to kill!"

"Kiku!" Greece yelled in response, immediately getting to his feet and chasing after Japan. Italy followed, not too thrilled with the idea of running with how his lungs were acting up, but persevering. They had to catch Japan before he reached the killer and got himself maimed.

"Japan stop!" Italy wailed, but Japan took no heed.

"Vietnam wasn't enough so you have to pick us off!?" Japan demanded, quickly approaching the killer. Italy had half a mind to cover his eyes, but was surprised when the red killer, instead of fighting, turned tail and bolted away from the three nations.

Japan, letting out a stream of curses in his own language, followed like a crazed hunting dog. The shouts from Greece and Italy begging him to stop went unheard.

* * *

Red is like a ghost when he runs. It's beautiful and scary at the same time, but when watching you know he has a purpose. I merely stand, my injured foot off the ground as they stupidly chase after my comrade. I know it's hopeless. Red is faster than any of us, and he's limber. He launches over rubble like a prancing deer, while Japan barrels after him like a deranged wildfire. If Japan catches him, then there's no doubt in my mind Red will become the victim. Yet, there's no worry of that. Red knows this wasteland like the back of his mask.

I stare at Japan briefly, my eyes narrowing. Greece and Italy are following close behind him. I find myself disgusted. Japan's not only a snitch, but he's a liar too, and if there's one thing you can't forgive, it's lying. Black says so and it makes sense. Even if I resent our 'leader', at least he's right about one thing.

Japan is going to pay for what he's done.

* * *

They entered the building where the red killer disappeared, coughing a bit on the dirt that rose beneath their feet. Japan glanced around what was once a clothing store, but the killer had vanished and he gave a low growl. They hadn't been quick enough. Japan let out a snarl, flinging the broken board to the side and cursing.

"That was the stupidest thing I've ever seen you do!" Italy panted in frustration.

"This…is the most exercise…I've gotten in years," Greece wheezed, hands on his knees and eyes closed. Japan was about to say something, when he faintly heard something coming from deeper within the building.

"What's that sound?" Italy questioned, brown eyes wide. It was piercing and loud. Along with it, he heard a strange grinding sound, almost as if something heavy was being dragged across the floor. Japan frowned, his attention on the shriller noise. It was almost like…

_"Korea," _he gasped suddenly, eyes widening in terror.

"Korea?" Greece asked, slightly confused. Italy paused for a moment, listening carefully. Then hearing what Japan had identified as screaming, let out a cry of his own.

"Oh no!" Japan wasted no time in sprinting into the next room, tripping slightly over a downed manikin while glass shards from the busted windows shrieked against the tiles as the three nations ran.

"What's that sound?" Greece asked breathlessly, finally catching on. Japan felt his heart race in terror as the faint shrieks became full out screams. Racing past a overturned rack of souvenir conical hats, they found themselves crawling through a window to get into the building next door.

Japan took the time to help Italy through and wait for Greece to follow before hurrying deeper into the confines of the skeletal building. This one appeared to be a grocery store of some sort, but then again, with how smoke damaged it was, it might have been anything. It was here the screams were most audible above the now incredibly loud grinding sound.

"Korea!" Japan called, panic threatening to overtake him. He remembered how numb he felt when they discovered Romano's body and realized he wasn't going to get that privilege now. His brown eyes glanced around the gray rubble, not spotting his brother anywhere.

"Korea!" Italy yelled as well.

"Korea, where are you?!" Japan ran to what was once the counter to the store and what led to a back room. From there he could hear the dragging grind of something heavy against a hard floor. "Korea, tell me where you are!" The screaming became audible.

"Japan! Japan, I'm in the back! Hurry! Oh please! Japan, help me!" Korea's voice was hysteric and his pleas broke off into wailing sobs, Japan's name mixed in here and there. Without a second thought, Japan flung himself over the smashed counter and ran into the blackness of the room behind it.

Upon entering, the room suddenly lit up like a torch, a feat that should have been impossible given the damage of the building. However, all of this went over Japan's head as he realized he was looking down at a circular pit in the floor, a frightened and crying Korea lying on the bottom. The grinding was its two walls slowly coming together from either side. Japan heard himself gasp, his breath leaving him as if he'd been punched in the gut. The pit looked like a slowly closing eye, it's shape thinning with every second that ticked by.

"Korea!" he heard Greece exclaim next to him.

"Korea!" Japan wailed in anguish, running to the edge of the pit.

"Japan, be careful!" Italy warned, following him. Japan paid no attention, his brown eyes wide with horror as he stared down at his younger brother. Korea looked up and got to his feet, running to Japan's side of the hole, tears streaming down his face.

"Japan! Japan, please help me!" he screamed, reaching his hands up. There was a crushing pain in Japan's chest as he stared at Korea, his entire body frozen. Despite the fact they weren't particularly close, Korea was still his family, and seeing him so scared…it reminded him of someone else who had the same expression not too long ago. He hated it. "Kiku, please!" Korea sobbed, jumping up and down and reaching for the top of the pit. Japan shook his head roughly.

Korea was his younger brother, and Japan had been nothing short of a monster to him over the centuries. Korea had been this scared before because of him. Guilt overcame him as he remembered every horrible thing he had done. Without thinking, took a quick step forward, prepared to throw himself over the edge.

"Korea hold on!" he screamed. However, it appeared he made his intention a bit too clear, for two pairs of hands gripped both of his arms and pulled him back. Korea vanished over the closing edge and Japan instantly fought against the restraints, writhing and yelling.

"Kiku, you can't go down there!" Greece exclaimed.

"Japan, stop!" Italy begged.

"Japan! Japan, don't leave me, please!" Korea wailed, his voice breaking with panicked sobs. "Please don't leave me!" Hearing his little brother's cries for help, awakened something within him, and Japan began to see red. Korea was a part of him, whether they were truly related or not. He remembered all the times Korea groped he and China, all the times he acted stupid, and the whole marriage joke with America. Korea was the light of the Asian family, he was the optimist and hopeful. If that were taken away…

With an inhuman shriek of rage and terror, Japan tore away from Italy and Greece, and bolted back to the edge of the pit, which was now alarmingly further away. He got on his stomach and reached out a hand so he was half hanging over the narrowing lip. Korea stared up at him, his brown eyes wild with fear. He stumbled back a few steps as the walls sluggishly made their way closer together.

"Im Yong Soo, grab my hand!" Japan hollered, stretching his fingers out as far as they would go.

"Come on Italy, let's help!" he heard Greece say from behind him. He suddenly felt two pairs of hands grip his legs, but paid no attention, his mind completely focused on his brother. Korea whimpered but reached his hand up again, jumping a few times. Their fingers brushed, but Japan couldn't grab his hand. He inched forward more, this time holding his other hand out as well. Korea jumped again, smacking into the wall and falling backwards with a frustrated sob of anguish.

"I-I can't!" he cried.

"Yes you can!" Japan yelled. His mind raced through the centuries: of chasing each other around and arguing. He recalled how they used to climb the statues of China's ancestral shrines just because they weren't allowed. Japan's eyes suddenly widened. The shrines. They had a game back then. One climbed to the head of the statue while trying to help the other up. If they didn't fall, it was considered a victory, if they fell, the one who caused the fall had to do the other's calligraphy. Japan gasped. "Korea, don't give up! Come on, you can do this! Just grab my hand!" Korea jumped again, managed to only brush the tips of Japan's fingers, hit the approaching wall, and fell flat on his back.

"Japan, the walls are getting closer together!" Italy warned. Japan glanced up from where Korea lay crumpled on the ground and felt panic rise in his chest when he realized they only had about ten meters left before Korea was crushed.

"I can't do it! I can't do it!" Korea chanted over and over, his eyes losing their light as tears fell down his cheeks. "Aniki, help me!"

"Im Yong Soo, listen to me!" Japan ordered, trying to quell the horrible panic within him. The adrenaline was racing, making him anxious and fidgety. "Listen! Do you remember the game we used to play on China's shrines when we were little?" Korea closed his eyes and nodded.

"Y-Yes," he breathed.

"Alright, it's just like in those days. You have to climb up here with me. You have to jump and grab my hands." Korea got to his feet shakily, and stared up at Japan momentarily, taking a few steps backwards with the wall. The hope didn't return to his eyes and his lips quivered horribly.

"Japan, I'm scared!" he cried. "I'm scared!"

"I know, I know you're scared, but I need you!" Japan said urgently. "Our family needs you! Korea, I was wrong when I said we weren't really brothers! Who cares if we didn't come from the same mother! But I was right about one thing! I was right when I said our families are forged through bonds! So, please, for your family, grab my hands!" Korea let out a strangled sound and began wildly shaking his head. Japan felt his frustration and dread rise. "Korea, China needs you! So grab my hands!" Korea continued to shake his head hopelessly, biting his lower lip and closing his eyes tightly. He was trembling horribly and wrapped his arms around himself.

"Japan, hurry!" he heard Greece shout. He lifted his head to see the other wall merely five meters away.

"Korea! Now!" Japan hollered. Korea let out an unstable breath and jumped again. Japan caught him by the wrists, his grip solid. "I got him! Pull me up!" he commanded. In an instant he was dragged back taking Korea with him. This was it. They were going to make it. The fear in Korea's eyes didn't fade, but they were okay. Japan was all the way out of the pit and Korea's arms were just over the top, his head peeking out just over the edge. They were--

They suddenly jerked to a stop and Korea let out a gag.

That's when Japan noticed it.

Around Korea's neck was a metal collar attached to a chain, which was connected to the bottom of the pit.

"Stop! Stop!" Japan screamed.

"What?" he heard Italy say. He felt their hands loosen from his ankles and took the opportunity to scoot closer and wrap his arms around Korea's back and under his arms to keep him up. He felt the younger nation's hands curl in the back of his relief uniform and felt his eyes begin burn when he felt him shaking.

"Kiku, don't leave me," Korea whimpered softly into Japan's shoulder. "Please don't leave me." Japan lifted one hand from where he held Korea to feel the collar, angered to find it made of pure metal. His fingers searched for a crease, anything that might offer his fingernails a hold so he could attempt to pry it off. "Kiku!"

"Shh," he soothed. "I'm here. I'm here," he murmured into Korea's ear.

"K-Kiku, d-don't leave me. Don't let me die, Onii-chan." Japan's fingers halted when they felt something rough. It was a piece of paper. Japan yanked it from the collar, and tightened his hold under Korea's arms as he used his mouth to unfold it.

_You and Blue both need to realize that you can't change fate :) _

- _P_

The burning in Japan's eyes suddenly spilled over, and he let out an enraged scream, grabbing hold of the chain and yanking it, no longer thinking. The metal links jingled, as if laughing at his pathetic attempt to free his doomed brother. Releasing the paper he searched around for a piece of rubble and found a jagged piece of metal. Wrapping his fingers around it he instantly began to attack the chain, slamming it into the links. It had no effect, the metal biting into Japan's skin and opening stinging cuts.

He pulled back a little to look into Korea's terrified eyes and pressed their foreheads together, his breath hitching. Korea was crying as well, and lifted his head in an effort to be closer. Japan dropped the metal slab to hold Korea tighter in what was the first and last time he would ever hug his brother.

"Onii-chan, please don't leave me," Korea was begging, his hands tightening on Japan's uniform.

"Italy, try putting a piece of metal between the walls!" he heard Greece order. There was a quick scuffling for a few precious seconds before out of the corner of his eye, he saw two metal rods lowered across the expanse of the pit.

"What's happening?" Korea questioned, his eyes wide as they swiveled about in their sockets.

"They're trying to stop the walls," Japan answered, sending a silent prayer for it to work. However, the rods didn't stand a chance, groaning briefly for a few seconds. The walls of the pit caused them to bend into themselves, before they fell to the bottom.

"Japan, there's only a few more feet!" Italy wailed. Japan ignored him, taking the back of Korea's head and letting the younger nation hide in his shoulder, not wanting him to see the wall. China had done the same for all of them, and although Japan knew he was the last person Korea wanted to be with before he died it was better than being alone.

"Kiku, there's nothing you can do!" he heard Greece yell. Then to his horror, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and begin to pull him back. At the sudden movement, Korea began to panic, his screams renewing and his fingers tightening in the back of Japan's uniform.

"No, Kiku! I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"

"Let go!" Japan yelled. "Let go! I'm not leaving him!" Japan's enraged shouts broke off into inaudible screaming that matched Korea's. However, Greece and Italy didn't let up and continued to pull him away. His arms ached with weariness from holding up his brother and with one last yank, Japan was pulled away.

"NOOOO!" Korea screamed, his eyes widening in absolute panic as he reached his hand out for Japan. The fingernails of his other hand dug into the top of the pit as Japan was forced away.

"Let go of me!" Japan shrieked, fighting against the other two nations. Italy had his arms around Japan's waist, while Greece had him by the chest. "Im Yong Soo!" Japan's hand was still desperately outstretched.

"Onii-chan!" Korea wailed one last time as his hand slipped, and his head disappeared over the edge of the pit, now only a meter apart from its counterpart. At this, Japan felt all mental functions cease and the only thing left was instinct. He didn't care if it was too late, he didn't care if what he was about to do made no difference. All that mattered was Korea. Screaming, he clawed at the hands restraining him, tears flowing as he screamed Korea's name over and over. Country and human, it didn't matter.

Korea's desperate screams for help and Japan continued, until the walls finally met. There was a loud and sickening crunch, and Korea's wailing was cut off. Finally, Japan tore away from Greece and Italy, running to the place in the floor where the pit used to be.

"Im Yong Soo!" Japan shouted, falling to his knees and clawing at the small crack in the floor. He scratched and scratched, his fingernails breaking and bleeding with the pressure of his useless gouging. "Korea! Korea! Korea!" he screamed repeatedly, scratching and pulling at the crease in the floor, his screams shaky with suppressed sobs.

"Kiku, stop! There's nothing you can do!" he heard Greece yell before pulling him into tight hug. Japan struggled against him briefly before losing the will to fight. He crumpled against the other nation, sobbing. "There's nothing you can do," Greece repeated softly. Japan screamed and cried for what felt like hours, angry at himself and the world. This wasn't fair. This was so cruel he couldn't even imagine a god looking down on them.

He shifted his head so his chin rested on Greece's shoulder, and felt himself freeze when he saw the red killer standing in the doorway. Japan seethed with anger when he figured the killer had been standing there the entire time. He let out another angry and grief-stricken shriek, burying his face in Greece's chest as his shoulders shook horribly with each angry sob.

Silently, the red killer turned from the scene and vanished.

* * *

Korea, you will be in our hearts and definately in Japans. This really hurt to write. Like, I'm not kidding I almost had a heart attack. Anyway, thanks for getting this far.

Oh, and our challenge is up on our profile! Towers of Compensation! Check it out if you're bored or need an idea for a oneshot!

Shout outs!:

VIITheChariot, Kari Kurofai, Tomatos-Potatos, yorune, Darona, My Precious Laith, HandInTheCookieJar, justinewhitlock4eva, Celestial Sara, Canadino, bettyhime, Ichi Hime-Sama, darkmatter963, Bananawings72, CanadianCookie, ninjafox369, EmoLollipop, xYukii, Victoria Wan, dragoneian, AikoujOi, and

Lochesh


	25. The Happy Face Killer

Salvation is all Blue wished...

**Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to us.**

* * *

Germany awoke slowly, his remaining eye opening sluggishly against the light. The first thing he was aware of was that the right side of his face was numb. The second thing were the two red eyes hovering above him. Not red as in they'd been crying, but naturally so, as hard as it was to believe.

"West? West? Can you hear me? Did the explosion leave you brain dead! Oh God West, please don't be brain dead! I can't take care of our people by myself!" Suddenly, the eyes were replaced by a shoving hand, and a pair of concerned green ones took their place.

"Prussia, shut up! Ludwig? Ludwig, sweetie, can you hear us?" he recognized Hungary immediately and cracked his dry lips open slowly, the inside of his mouth feeling as if it were stuffed with cotton. He tried to speak, but the numbness combined with how parched his throat was made it come out as a hiss.

_"Wa…sser," _he managed to say in his own language.

"What?" Hungary asked, her tone confused. Germany wondered why he couldn't move anything on the right of his face as Hungary was shoved away by Prussia.

"He wants water!" Prussia exclaimed. Germany closed his eye as the part of his head he could feel throbbed with pain at the noise. He gave a low groan.

"See, idiot? You gave him a headache!" Hungary shrieked. Germany groaned again.

"No, you did!" Prussia yelled. Germany let out another groan.

"Would you shut up, you dumb ass!" Germany was really getting irritated. "Why don't you go back to the kitchen for your-"

"Both of you shut up!" Germany hollered, instantly regretting it as his throat burned with agony. He closed the only eye he could feel against the horrible throb pounding away in his head.

"Here West, drink some water," he heard Prussia say. He felt something poke between his lips. Realizing it was a straw, he immediately began to suck, draining the contents of the cup in what he assumed was record speed. He felt strangely revitalized afterward and opened his one eye again to clearly see Hungary and Prussia on either side of his bed. It all came back to him now: the explosion, the burning, and then Italy.

_Italy._

After another moment of assessment, Germany found he was actually propped up in the bed. He thought back, remembering calling Hong Kong shortly before he passed out about Taiwan. He recalled seeing her under the remains of a piano, face down and hair tangled with shrapnel. The memory was fuzzy, but still intact. Then, Germany felt his heart freeze behind his ribs and his breath clog in his throat. Ever so slowly, he lifted his hand to feel the numbness. There he was met with what felt like bandages.

"You lost your right eye," Prussia said, his usually brash and loud voice lowered. "And you're going to have some pretty bad scarring." Germany frowned, shaking his head slowly. He had to let this go. He had to let it go because at the moment his appearance was the least of his worries. The last thing he remembered about Italy was flinging him into a bush just as the house exploded.

"Where's Italy?" he stared directly at Hungary and Prussia. The two looked at one another briefly and Germany feared the worst. Hungary answered.

"Well, you see, Vietnam disappeared a few days ago and Hanoi was destroyed. Japan and Italy went there to help with the relief effort. You…You've been out for about a week and a half." Germany stared at her for a moment trying to comprehend what she just said. He'd been out for an entire week and a half? And Italy was all the way in Hanoi alone? With killers? Germany sat up a little more, pleased it didn't cause him too much pain.

"When will they be back?"

"Week and a half," Prussia replied. "Italy's been calling everyday to make sure you were okay, though." Germany's gaze softened, feeling nothing but utterly touched. Italy and Japan were continuing the investigation, but Italy still found time to make sure he was okay.

"I'm glad he wasn't seriously injured." Germany half-smiled, imagining Italy's cheerful face. Japan better look out for him, or else there was going to be hell to pay.

"He suffered a bit from cyanide poisoning, but I was surprised he recovered so quickly since Rome is still a mess, and Romano…" Hungary trailed off. Nobody appeared willing to discuss the older Italian twin at the moment, so Germany took it upon himself to change the subject.

"How is Taiwan?" he questioned.

"Her legs are pretty busted up," Prussia said. "Hong Kong hasn't left since she got here, so his boss isn't too happy. Also, our Chancellor is having a fit." Germany felt his stomach sink, and out of habit tried to slick his hair back. Unfortunately, he was met with the rough bandages instead of his own smooth hair and let out a sigh.

"That's expected, but I take it Berlin is unharmed?"

"For now," Prussia growled, crossing his arms. Germany looked to Hungary, surprised that Austria wasn't with her.

"Where's your husband?" he questioned, directing the word 'husband' at Prussia, who rolled his eyes. Elizaveta didn't appear to notice.

"He had some business to attend to with Liechtenstein. He's been really wonderful to her ever since Switzerland…" she trailed off again. Germany knew Hungary was anything but squeamish, but the amount of missing and dead nations had risen rapidly. The media had devoured this and now it was up to the remaining nations to quell the growing panic. Her green eyes saddened.

"Yeah, poor guy," Prussia remarked. "Speaking of which, have you found anything new out?" Germany frowned as best he could.

"They seem to think Poland has something to do with it, but other than that, they lose me on their logic. Italy and Japan are the detectives, they just sort of pull me along for the ride," he admitted. Then after a moment, he added as an afterthought, "I hope they're both alright." Prussia nodded, but appeared unsure for a split second, something unheard of when it came to Germany's overbearing brother.

"I'm more worried about Italy. He didn't look too great when he left, but then again Japan was running between yours and America's room for nearly a week fueled by only coffee and will power." Germany frowned again, unable to quell the sudden flow of worry. Italy had been poisoned by the gas and Rome was desecrated from Romano's murder. Surely he shouldn't be up and about as of yet. Oh, Japan better be taking care of him or else…

Hungary gave Prussia a worried look and touched his shoulder. In response, he fidgeted nervously at Germany's solemn expression, but then inexplicably brightened and snapped his fingers as if he had come up with the most ingenious idea.

"Oh, don't worry about them, West! I brought something that will make you feel better!" Prussia declared, reaching into his pocket. Germany wondered what possibly could make him feel better, foolishly hoping Prussia was smart enough to smuggle in a couple of beers. Yet he was sourly disappointed and breathed out in exasperation as a ball of yellow fluff was revealed. "Look, I brought Zwölf to insure your safety! Had to sneak him in my pocket though." Hungary slapped her palm to her face and groaned. Germany rolled his single eye.

"Is Iceland still here?" he questioned. Hungary and Prussia blinked and Zwölf even offered a confused peep.

"Yeah, why?" Prussia asked, stroking the tiny chick's head. The other two nations gave a collective gasp as Germany forced himself to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. "Holy shit West, what they fuck do they have you on? You can't go marching around the hospital yet!" Prussia yelled, placing Zwölf on his head before grabbing his younger brother's shoulders to restrain him.

"After we investigated Hong Kong's house, we were going to speak with Iceland. We weren't able to get much out of him last time due to the amount of painkillers being pumped into him. I have to make myself useful. Now, release me." Prussia stared at him for a moment.

"Gilbert," Germany growled when his brother didn't immediately step back. "You have to let me go."

"West-"

"Let me go. I have to do this." Prussia's face appeared hurt of the briefest of seconds (so quick Germany thought he might have imagined it) then his red eyes glinted with pride and he stepped back, giving a loud laugh.

"Alright!"

"What?" Hungary squawked. "You can't just let-"

"Ludwig finally lets his awesome out!" Prussia proclaimed over her. "Anyone who can stand up to the awesomeness that is my person definitely has an important mission!" Zwölf peeped in agreement from his place nestled in Prussia's snowy hair, flapping his tiny wings rapidly in apparent excitement. Feeling a rush of gratitude towards his older brother, Germany put his weight on his feet and attempted to stand. However, as soon as he let go of the side of the bed the world began to rotate at a rapid rate. He suddenly felt ill and his legs trembled. Germany let out a miserable groan as he fell back on the bed.

"Ludwig!" Hungary exclaimed, alarmed.

"West!" Prussia cried at the same time.

"Perhaps," Germany began, shifting back up in the bed. "It would be best if we got a wheelchair."

* * *

China was waiting for Him to come back. Ever since that dream, _no, that nightmare_, He always showed. That horrible devil child to who's name he'd forgotten. Absentmindedly, he scratched at his ear where the Other One bit, the only part of the twisted fantasy that had hurt him. Since then, he'd retreated deeper into his mind, hoping to escape, needing to escape, but like a scared little rabbit cornered by a pack of hunting dogs, he was doomed to fall victim to their gnashing teeth.

_Two snarling dogs were circling, sniffing around for their victim: the little white rabbit named Yao._

He felt the scab beneath his nails, the only thing his damaged mind could grasp. He didn't feel much anymore. Only listened for the approach of Him and the Other One. There was talking in the room next door, and although the voices were familiar, he couldn't place them.

_"So, they tortured you out in the woods by my house?"_

_"Yes, by your house. They chased me until we came to a dried stream and they dragged me a few feet. The red one was the one who cornered me, so I'm guessing he's the fastest. Then the one in the pink mask sat on top of me…" _this voice was shaky as it trailed off.

_"I'm sorry if I'm upsetting you."_

_"No, you need to know so you can find Norway and Denmark. You_ are_ trying to find them, right?" _There was a earsplitting silence for a few moments, making China's already high paranoia spike dangerously. When it got so loudly quiet, He would come, and when it got dark and quiet, He and the Other One would show up together, and when they were together..

_"Yes, we're doing everything we can."_

_"Okay, remember Italy's promise to me. It was the woods by your house, so if you want to find anything, I suggest you look there. Also, they talked about one in particular."_

_"One what?"_

_"Another killer. They called him, Blue."_

_"Blue?"_

_"Yes, Blue. He was the only one apparently not there when I was being tortured, but they all…"_

_"All what?"_

_"T-They all seemed _afraid_ of him."_

_"How so?" _the speaker of this voice seemed disbelieving.

_"It was like they were following his orders, even though they said they were under the control of the one they called Black. Then the white one, the one that killed Switzerland and Romano, said they didn't want to make him angry. That was towards the end though when they all turned on each other. That's...that's how I got away."_

_"The purple one killed Spain and the green one was the one who put Russia into a coma, correct?"_

_"That's right."_

_"So what are the colors of the masks again?"_

_"There's a blue, green, purple, pink, yellow, red, white, and then their leader, Black."_ China strained his ears after the second stretched silence. However, this wasn't as loud as the first. _"Norway is still alive because they said Blue needed him for something and that…"_ China heard the muffled, but shaky breaths. _"The yellow one used his blood to make the messages on China's wall, and from what you told me about the recreated Nussia scene, his blood was used there too. Denmark…I…I don't want to think about it."_

_"And this was before Vietnam and Finland went missing, correct?"_

_"That's right, so I'm not much use there. Sorry." _

_"It's not your fault. They revealed themselves to each other, right?"_

_"Yeah, but by that time the pink one got one of my eyes and they had me turned face down so I didn't see anything. Plus it was so dark and I thought I was going to be killed."_ China stopped listening after that. There were too many bad names in what they were talking about. Instead he returned to scratching at the wound on his ear. It itched horribly.

Suddenly, he heard another voice, only this one much closer. Mildly curious, China stiffly turned his head from the window to find a boy standing in the doorway with a cell phone to his ear. He knew who the boy was, but the name escaped him in his mental detachment, but even through this China felt what was unknowingly a flicker of concern. The boy appeared exhausted and upset. He was also…out of breath?

_"Are you sure, Kiku? Oh no. No." _The boy let out a shuddering sigh. _"Look, just calm down. You need to rest."_ Another sigh. _"No, I know you're not a child, but you aren't thinking clearly right now."_ Pause. _"No, it just hasn't sunken in yet. Look, I have to go."_ Pause. _"I'm sorry. I know you are. Just sleep for now and come home early."_ A longer pause this time._ "America? Haven't seen him. No, I haven't been to your house. I have to be here for Taiwan and China." _The boy rolled his eyes. China noticed they were red rimmed, and the boy wiped them with the back of his red sleeve. _"Alright, I'll let you know. Bye."_

He closed the phone, and upon doing so, slumped weakly against the frame of the door and buried his face in his arm, shoulders quaking silently. China merely stared at him, wanting to say something, wanting to show him the horrid, itchy wound on his ear, but his mouth didn't so much as twitch. His voice made no semblance to summon itself in his throat. Somehow, this wasn't completely disappointing.

_Sniffing, snarling, searching for the rabbit. _

The Other One had scraped him out until he was empty, his soul no longer with him, or so he thought. China believed there was nothing in his body anymore. He noticed it when he stared at his reflection in the widow. He did this often, trying to find himself, but his eyes were nothing but two misty brown circles on his face, no matter how long and hard he searched for any shred of the proud nation he used to be.

The boy stiffened suddenly, obviously feeling China's soulless eyes upon him and lifted his head, wiping his eyes with his forearm. He sniffed lightly, but his expression was serious as he approached China's bedside. China wanted to back away from him, for the closer he got, the more connected he felt to the world and the pain associated with it came back. He knew the boy now. He was Jin, the youngest, his baby.

Jin stopped at his bedside, his serious brown eyes staring intently. China looked back at him, his face blank, but in reality, he was studying. He took in Jin's straight black hair, his brown eyes identical to China's own. Painful memories surfaced when he saw the thin trail of tears trickling down his cheeks: of comforting him in the midst of thunderstorm and saying a tearful goodbye as England took him away. Jin was smallest and the one who was most attached to him, but he never cried.

_The dogs were howling now, they found Yao's scent and wagged their monstrous tails at the thought of devouring him. _

_"China, Korea is dead,"_ he said, voice steady. If not for the tears, it would be impossible to tell he was upset. Something else flickered then, something terrible and oppressive that threatened to shove China into darkness. The itch on the bite wound became unbearable and he lifted his hand to scratch it again, his lifeless eyes rolling a bit due to the agony it caused.

Jin's eyes narrowed as China scratched, but made no move to stop him. Instead, he leaned forward, searching for the source.

"Jin, make it stop_," _China found himself pleading silently. It startled him slightly. This was the first time in weeks his thoughts, muddied and disillusioned as they were, actually made a sentence. "Jin, make it stop," he repeated. For the third time there was nothing but the silence, and China's eyes widened, swiveling around the room searching for the disfigured face of Him.

_They barked and barked..._

Silence meant He was here, lurking, watching. The itch was practically burning now, it always did when He was watching, and China gazed heatedly at Jin, his single thought becoming unheard screams.

"Jin, make it stop! Jin, make it stop! Jin, make it stop! Jin, make it stop! JIN, MAKE IT STOP!"

Jin's hand suddenly grasped his wrist roughly and pulled it away, ceasing his desperate itching.

_"There's nothing there, Yao."_ Suddenly, the world crashed down on China's head. There was nothing there? The bite wasn't there? Then…

_Yao saw the dogs' teeth. _

He looked towards the window again. It was there, clear as day. Was Jin blind? He heard a sigh and felt a jolt of absolute terror when in the reflection of the mirror, Jin turned away from him. _"Maybe it's for the best you're like this."_ China shifted around in the bed just as Jin walked out of the room, leaving nothing but silence in his wake.

_Silence…_

_Woof Woof!  
_

The people in the other room had stopped speaking and there was nothing.

In sheer panic, China threw his arm out over the railing of his bed, hoping it might somehow bring Jin back so that He wouldn't come. China stared at the doorway intently, but no one ever came. Not even a single nurse. He tried to scream, but again his voice was nonexistent.

Then, from under the bed, something snatched his wrist, yanking it down until it was forced against the railing with a dull _thunk_. It wasn't like Jin's firm hold, but crushing, painful, and sure to leave a ring of bruises. China's heart monitor beeped wildly as he slowly, almost unwillingly looked down, the terror overtaking him and settling in the pit of his stomach as he melted unpleasantly back into his body. He was feeling everything now that He was here and there was going to be no escape.

The thing that grabbed him was a small, yellowish pale hand, splattered with blood. China's mouth slowly began to open as the figure rose, using his trapped wrist for leverage.

"_China_," a sickly soft voice hissed with deranged glee. A snowy white head appeared over the mattress. It was Him. The eyes on the disfigured, yellowish face were closed, but that sick grin was plastered in place as thick trails of blood poured over his forehead and nose, staining his hair and dribbling over his bared teeth. China didn't move, didn't dare to even blink as those horrible violet eyes slid open, fixating him with murderous adoration. The bite wound no one else could see was positively searing with pain, but China wasn't scratching anymore.

_The dogs found him and were digging. There was no escape. _

The boy let out a guttural sound that was meant to be a cruel laugh. _"Did you really think I'd let you live after what you've done?" _That horrid grin grew into a moony sneer, the kind of sneer found on a dead animal on the side of the road. Nussia's other hand came down on the white of China's bedsheets, smearing them with dirt and red as he pulled himself closer to his victim. _"Yellow, Yellow, kill a fellow. Yellow, Yellow, kill a fellow. Yellow, Yellow, kill a fellow." _that horrid, cracked mouth chanted like a nursery rhyme. _"Yellow, Yellow, bottom, chello, here he comes to kill a fellow." _

For the first time since stabbing himself to get away from the Yellow, China's voice returned to him in a piercing shriek that rattled the window panes.

Hong Kong rushed back from Taiwan's room across the hall flanked by three nurses. To his own shock, he found China thrashing in the corner of the room, eyes glazed like that of a frightened animal's and his bed overturned. All the while he was tearing at his now bleeding ear with frightening abandon.

_The dogs licked their jowls at their captured prize. _

* * *

Japan was staring blankly at his cracked fingernails, now wrapped in gauze as the plane headed back to his house. His chest hurt and his eyes burned both with tears and his refusal to blink. If he closed his eyes for so much as a second, he'd be assaulted by Korea's face, and that last desperate expression before he was crushed. Then the red killer would be standing there, watching silently as someone was killed so brutally. Japan took a shaky breath and looked at his cell phone.

Yesterday, after he received a warm hug from Italy and had stopped crying, he got the most unusual phone call from Ottawa Canada. Japan stared at the caller ID dumbstruck, not sure if he really wanted to answer with how upset he was. Yet, he thought about America's own worry and decided to risk it, hoping for good news.

"_H-Hello?"_

"_Hi, it's me. Canada, in case you forgot."_

"_Oh hello Canada-san. America is really worried about you, perhaps you should call him?" _

"_No, I need to tell you something, and this will be the last you'll hear from me. I can't risk anyone getting hurt because someone is watching me, but I need you to do two things for me." _

"_Look, my brother was just killed and I'm not in a good place right now, so I'll do my best, but I can't promise anything." _

"_I just want you to tell America, France, and England that I'm okay and to stop calling me. Whoever is watching me has my phones tapped. I managed to steal this one from one of my people, but I still can't talk for long." _

"_Alright, I can do that, but what's the second thing?" There was a deep breath. _

"_You need to tell America that Greece was with you in Hanoi." _

"_Please don't-"_

"_I'm serious, Japan. Listen to me." 'Shut up' Japan had wanted to say. 'You don't know what your talking about', was another that came to mind, but his own politeness, even after losing Korea, was still deeply ingrained in him. The scary thing was Canada sounded unusually resolute, meaning what he had to say was definitely important.  
_

_"Alright, you have my attention." _

_"There's something I want you to really pay attention to."_

"_I told you I'd listen, go ahead."_

"_Look, this whole thing with Reynolds...it's changed him, and not for the better. I've noticed he's more angry, and scared. But with you, he's like his old self. He smiles and laughs, and you have no idea how long it has been since I've seen him do that. H__e's in love with you, Japan. He thinks the world of you and is trying so hard to make you feel the same way about him, so don't ever lie to him or…something really terrible will happen. I can just feel it. If you tell him now, he'll be upset, but he'll forgive you. So please, can you do that for me?"_

"_I-I don't know. I don't know anything right now because I can't think. I'm sorry." _

"_I understand you're grieving, but I'm telling you what you need to do. Let him in Japan, because if you don't…" There was a long silence. _

"_Canada-san?" _

"_I-I have to go. I heard something. Just for your sake, and everybody close to you, please, please tell him the truth." _

"_Canada-" _

__The blank dial tone followed by the operator's cheerful observation of the call being disconnected interrupted him.

The conversation had been quick, but informative, leaving Japan's stomach twisted in a horrible knot that hadn't let up since yesterday. Everybody knew he needed to tell America the truth, but he just couldn't. It wasn't as if he and Greece had done anything together, but the principle of the matter was still there. He lied, plain and simple.

"Hey, _Nihon_, you okay?" he heard Italy ask softly. He lifted his head from where he was still staring at his wrapped fingertips to see the smaller nation looking down at him, a smile on his face that thankfully wasn't pitying, but hurtfully knowing.

"No," Japan answered truthfully, figuring he might get in some much needed practice and knowing it would be pointless to lie anyway. "I'm not going to be okay for a very long time, Italy-kun." His voice sounded dead even to his own ears and he felt his eyes well up all over again. "He's only been gone for a little over a week, but I miss him." Japan crammed the balls of his hands under his eyes to stop the threatening flow of tears.

"I know how you feel," Italy said softly, wrapping his arms around Japan's shoulders and letting the other nation lean against him. Japan felt something stab him between the ribs when he realized Italy _did _know exactly what he was feeling. Only Italy had not just lost his brother, but his twin, his other half. "I miss Lovi too, but we're going to get these killers, you'll see." Japan didn't answer, merely concentrating on breathing as his chest ached dully.

"I was so terrible to him," Japan finally managed to whisper. "I was so mean and I treated him like dirt." Italy's warmth was comforting and for a brief moment he imagined it was China holding him like he used to. However, Korea's pleas rang in his head and he forced himself to think back on the red killer. The one who merely stood and watched.

"There's nothing you can do now, but Korea knew you loved him. You just have to be strong, okay? For America, because he loves you as much as you pretend not to love him." For the first time in days, Japan let out a weak chuckle.

America. He may have screwed up with Korea, but there was still time to fix this with America. With heat pouring into his cheeks, he remembered the night before departure. Their kiss had been passionate and before he left, America was smiling so beautifully. He was beginning to comprehend how much he truly loved seeing that smile and how he'd give anything to keep it on the younger nation's face. When he thought of America, the pain in his chest turned into something warm, even the sting in his broken fingernails fading away to barely noticeable. He needed America, or to hear is voice at least.

"I need to call him," Japan finally decided.

"There you go Japan, take the initiative!" Italy cried out happily. However, as soon as he said this, his phone went off, startling them both before he reached into his pocket. When he looked at the caller ID and felt his heart swell with both joy and fear when he saw it was America. "Huh, what timing!" Italy chirped cheerfully. Japan didn't respond and opened his phone with quaking hands.

"_Moshi moshi," _he answered, trying to keep his voice from cracking. He hadn't been using it enough for the past week, lost in his own mental stupor.

"J-Japan." America's voice wasn't bright and cheerful like Japan had hoped. Instead, it was small and scared.

"America, what is it? What's wrong?" Japan demanded instantly, real fear overtaking his depression and exhaustion. If anything happened to America he didn't know what he'd do, not so soon after losing Korea.

"Canada was…Canada was attacked!" For the first time in the hundreds of years he knew the younger nation, America was openly crying.

"What do you mean attacked?" Japan asked, hitting the speakerphone button so Italy could listen in.

"Yesterday, he came over to drop Tony off and he was limping like crazy! It looked like someone had beaten him up, but he wouldn't answer any of my questions and just left! I-I couldn't stop him!"

"Well, where is he now?" Italy's eyes were full of concern, but he kept his mouth shut and merely listened.

"I don't know! I don't know where he went after that and he wouldn't answer any of my calls! I even called England and France, and they said they saw him not too long after I did, but they couldn't get a hold of him either! I'm at his house now and he's not here!"

"America, please calm down, I'm sure he's okay," Japan hopelessly reassured, not even believing himself.

"J-Japan, Canada's gone!" he screamed into the receiver. "I-I told him you killed Reynolds and now he disappeared! I think he might have told Cuba about it too, and that's why Cuba was murdered! I'm so sorry! It's all my fault! I'm sorry! I-I c-couldn't keep it to myself and I told!" America's voice cut off with a sob. "Now my little brother is gone and someone else is dead because of me!"

Suddenly, there was a loud bang from the other end and Japan's eyes widened. A feeling of dread wound its way around his heart and squeezed.

"What was that?" he demanded, fearing a killer had caught up with America and shot him. However, rethinking about the particular noise, it sounded more like someone kicking a table or running into one. Japan frowned. "America, what was that sound?" he repeated more urgently.

"Kumajirou is going insane!" America cried. Japan had to restrain himself from sighing in relief. "He's running around aimlessly. God, Kiku, it's all my fault I shouldn't have told. I never should have dragged Matthew into this. I-If anything happens to him…" America trailed off, his breathing shaky and strained. "I won't ever forgive myself," he finished in a trembling whisper.

"Alfred, don't worry. We'll find Canada," Japan promised. Suddenly, the phone let out the most wretched sound he had ever heard. America was no longer only crying, but screaming bloody murder as if he were being tortured. It filled the small private jet, waking Greece from where he was napping by the window.

"The hell is that?" he asked rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Shh!" Italy commanded, pressing a finger over his lips. Greece frowned, but obeyed as his eyes found Japan, distressed and shaking rigidly in his seat.

"Alfred?" Japan called desperately into the phone, somehow hoping the other nation could be summoned through the connection. "Alfred, what's happening?" I'm coming over!" Abruptly the screaming cut off, replaced by thick choking until a rough splattering sound caused Japan to rise out of his seat. No. Not Alfred. Not so soon after he lost Im Yong Soo. The tears were already coming down his cheeks as he gripped the phone so hard the plastic let out a mini groan. "Alfred, answer me!" he commanded, his voice shrill and almost angry. There was nothing but laborious breathing for awhile, causing static to rise on the other end. "Alfred! Dammit _baka_, you answer me now!"

"W-Washington!" America finally managed to breathe out. "Oh, God, they're destroying Washington!"

"Where are you?" Japan demanded, his free hand anchored tightly on the armrest of the chair .

"Mathew's house…in…in Ontario," America answered breathlessly. "Hurry Kiku, I'm scared! I-It hurts so much!"

"I'll be right there, just stay calm and try to breathe!"

"O-Okay," America gasped roughly. Japan wanted to scream when he heard the liquid rasp in the younger nation's desperate heaves for air. Yet, all this trouble from breathing didn't stop America from letting out a breathy, "I love you."

Again that pain returned. The pain of not being able to say it back. He was aware of Greece and Italy's eyes upon him, and the pressure that came with it was overwhelming. It was like deciding to kill Reynolds again, for he felt just as lost and unsure of himself. He had wanted this, right? For America to feel what he was feeling? Then why was this so complicated? Why did Japan suddenly want to try so hard and yet abandon him at the same time? Isolation had made him horribly shy and unused to dealing with the complex emotions involved in relationships of any kind.

Japan admitted he had a strange connection to America, but that didn't mean he was in love. It was…the concept was just too foreign, too strange for him. There was no doubt he felt something for the younger nation, and he knew America knew that, so why did he feel like he was neglecting the other nation? Japan was hurting. Listening to America gasp and struggle for air was not only making him sick, but causing those strange protective feelings intensify. Still, it was time to be strong he opened his mouth shakily.

"A-Alfred, I-" Japan began, but was interrupted when he heard America give a pained snarl.

"Fuck! Shit, this fucking hurts!" Japan hesitated, humiliation and dread hanging over him like hungry wolves.

"I'm sorry, I'll be over soon," he whispered before hanging up without another word. He locked eyes with the other two nations, who both appeared to have paled in the past few minutes. Japan released a sharp breath, his face now perfectly serious. "Get this plane to Ontario. Now."

* * *

Hope you all enjoyed. Chapters should be coming out pretty quick if I keep em this length. We're trying not to drag things out, but Blue's plan is a complex one and requires a lot of setup to actually make sense. Seriously, I have to keep notes to make sure I don't screw anything up. But Promise it won't be much longer until Blue decides to show his face, as I'm sure many of you want to punch it in.

Oh and 800th review gets something fabulous!

Shout outs!

**dragoneian, Victoria Wan, Bacontheft, avaspongeriffic, pmpatg, xYukii, Teardroppe Workshoppe, Black-Yami-Cat, Celestial Sara, Canadino, LupinandHarry, Kari Kurofai, bombayxprodigy, utterly-depressed!anon, Bananawings72, HandInTheCookieJar, Kara2992, Tomatos-Potatos, Lochesh, Darona, Ichi Hime-Sama, EvilAnimeGoodness, My Precious Laith, CanadianCookie,, justinewhitlock4eva, marmoki, AikoujOi, EmoLollipop, and!**

**Madam Imagine**

Thank you guys so much for not getting bored and sticking with us. It means the world to both of us, you have no idea.


	26. The Wolf of Moscow

Hello, Angel has returned. We love you guys so much for being so good to us despite all we put you through. You're amazing and without you writing this would be pointless.

Disclaimer: We don't own.

* * *

Canada only had two houses in Ontario from what Greece vaguely remembered. One was his regular home in Ottawa, and the other was his smaller townhouse in Toronto. Greece wasn't sure which one America was in, but he figured the first place America would look for his brother would be in his capital, and apparently Japan came to the same conclusion.

"Land in Ottawa first," he directed.

"Impossible," the pilot answered. Italy, who was trembling lightly beside Japan gripped his friend's arm in fear.

"Why?" he asked. Even Greece, who's presence was usually enough to make anyone drowsy, was wide awake, every muscle in his body rigid.

"I just got the call Ottawa was destroyed roughly six hours ago. Washington is still under attack, but they're losing big time. Their planes are dropping like flies. It's like seven armies are attacking it at the same time," the pilot reported, sounding unnerved himself by the news.

"Then that leaves Toronto," Japan said, his voice hard. If Ottawa was destroyed that long ago, there would be no way for America to get there, let alone make a call. Apparently Canada preferred spending his winters closer to his brother.

"Oh, we better hurry!" Italy cried, squirming uncomfortably.

"I'll get us there as fast as I can," the pilot promised. "For now why don't you boys take a seat and try to relax. I hear Canada's in a state of total chaos, not that America's doing much better, but the point is get rest now, because we're going to have a hell of a time when we get there." Italy nodded and left the cockpit, followed by his companions.

Greece studied Japan worriedly, seeing him tense. There was something hard in the other nation's brown eyes, something Greece knew could be deadly if it were released. Then again, Japan was still grieving over Korea's death and now he had America to worry about. Greece looked down at his hands guiltily, clearly recalling Korea's face before he fell between the closing walls.

Greece had hated dragging Japan away from him, but he himself didn't want to see Korea die or to have him die in Japan's arms. Greece blinked away the horrible images and looked up in time to see Japan and Italy talking quietly. Sighing, he took his own seat away from them and gazed out of the window, his hooded green eyes staring out over the clouds.

Clearly Japan was avoiding him. Not that it bothered him, well, not really anyway. It sort of a stung though that now all of a sudden Japan didn't want to at least be friends. It wasn't as if their relationship had ended recently. Greece rubbed his temples. Maybe he was just stressed? Korea's capital was no doubt destroyed, so that left Japan with even more on his plate.

The clouds offered nothing interesting, and after awhile, Greece began to fidget, something he wasn't known for. Still, the stress was getting to him, and he found he needed to talk to someone. Yet, he also felt like an outsider. Even though he had come to Hanoi as a concerned friend, interacting with Japan was suddenly equivalent to interacting with one of Seychelles' fish, meaning there was no point in even trying to start a conversation. Needless to say, it made him feel like an overbearing ex his former lover merely tolerated. Greece risked a peak at the Asian nation and found he too was staring at the window, Italy presumably off in the bathroom.

Perhaps he was over analyzing it, because not only was Japan being distant from _him_ all of a sudden, but from what he heard of the phone conversation, he was pushing America back as well. Greece's brow furrowed as he took in Japan's profile: his delicate jawline, his beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes and the way his dark hair fell in his face.

He knew if he wasn't careful, he could very well fall in love again. He blanched at the thought. Falling back in love with Japan meant that for the second time his love would go unrequited. It was why their relationship had failed in the first place. Although Japan probably thought he loved Greece at the time, whatever he was feeling wasn't deep enough. Greece wanted a passionate lover, and although he cared for and respected Japan immensely, the Asian nation was just too shy and too work-orientated for them to succeed as a couple. Besides, it was clear who Japan had given his heart to. Yet, that person was the very definition of the word clueless, and Japan's distance to someone that dense might be misinterpreted as emotional coldness, but Greece knew it was caused by a mix of pride, embarrassment, and fear.

Unfortunately for Japan, America had the emotional intuition equal to a tree stump's, and was probably going to take it the wrong way if he hadn't already. Greece blew through his lips, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to see Japan happy, and if it was with America, so be it, but it was clear his former lover needed a little push in the right direction.

"Hey, Japan," he spoke up. Japan turned his neck to stare at him. His face might as well have been carved of marble for all the expression it contained. Greece was able to read between the lines, however. He knew Japan too well.

The words, _Fuck off, _were rolling off the other nation in waves, but fortunately Japan's ingrained politeness prevented him from voicing this thought. Instead he wearily asked,

"Yes, Greece-san, what is it?" Greece felt a pang in his chest at the formal honorific used. Japan was obviously trying to distance himself. Greece stared back with his own weary look, noticing the way Japan tensed. It wasn't from nervousness, but out of a frightening readiness to fight. He cleared this throat. Perhaps it would be best to start out with small talk just to loosen the other nation up before they got into the heavy stuff Greece felt he needed to discuss before Japan ended up breaking America's heart.

"I'm bored, want to humor me?" Perhaps it wasn't the most suave way of moving things along, but it served its purpose as Japan dipped his head and walked across the aisle to sit next to him. His eyes remained guarded, but his body language was slightly less defensive. This didn't make Greece feel any better, for Japan had the ability to go from perfectly serene to bloodthirsty in a split second, a trait Greece had a feeling Japan himself wasn't even completely aware of.

"Alright, Greece-san, what is it?"

"Are you okay?" There, that seemed safe enough.

"I'm terrified." Wow. Couldn't get much more honest than that. "I'm also angry, sad, and exhausted, but other than that, I'm great, how are you?" He sounded a tad sarcastic, but Greece had a feeling it wasn't intentional.

"Concerned," was all he said. For a long time the low rumbling of the plane was the only thing audible, and Greece risked a side-glance to gauge the other nation's reaction. Japan was staring blankly at the seat in front of him. It appeared he hadn't even heard. Greece cleared his throat before continuing, "Korea's gone and America's in trouble."

"So I've heard," Japan muttered, still not giving eye contact. Greece noticed the dark rings under the smaller nation's eyes. He had lost weight too, his dark uniform a tad bit too baggy. Japan's fingers tightened around the seat cushion. "Why did you pull me away from him?" It came out forced and shaky. Again, Korea's face assaulted Greece's mind along with his wails of 'onii-chan', the word for 'big brother' in a language he had despised. Clearly, Japan was thinking along those same lines, but didn't want to break down and cry again, even if it was what he needed.

"We didn't want you to watch him die," Greece answered at last, feeling his own eyes burn and a lump rise in his throat as he stared at Japan's bowed head.

"I _did_ watch him die," Japan whispered. "The only difference was that I wasn't there with him. Korea died alone. I…I wanted to hold him, Greece-san. I wanted to be with him until the end, but you and Italy-kun…" he let out a sound that was like a hiss of pain, his fists balling into the armrests.

"There wasn't anything you could have done," Greece repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. "He was going to be crushed no matter what. It would have been a mess if you kept holding him up like that."

"I don't care! I don't care if he would have exploded all over me!" Japan snapped harshly, his voice an octave higher than normal. He calmed himself, stubbornly refusing to break down. "I…I was never there for him. I never once told him I cared about him, or that he was important to me. I…" Japan swallowed roughly and covered his face with his hands. "I always thought of him as a burden and a nuisance. I remember once when we were young, I told him that the world would be better off without him. He cried to China-san for days, but I was…I wasn't ever sorry I said it. I never told him I was wrong or that I was sorry!" Greece knew better than to reach out a hand to comfort Japan. Japan didn't want comfort, he only wanted to talk. He was mentally berating himself, punishing himself for all the wrongs he felt he committed. "Finally, when I could have been there for him, I wasn't. H-he was screaming for me. He was screaming for me, and I couldn't do anything to help him! I was…I was…_useless._"

"You weren't useless," Greece said, knowing it was a waste of breath. Japan didn't believe him, his breathing strained and shaky as he continued to cradle his head in his hands. Greece let out a sigh, ready to change the subject. He didn't want to dwell on Korea, or the horrible final crunch when the walls finally met. "Korea is gone now and there's nothing you can do to bring him back, but there is still someone who needs you."

"I know," Japan murmured. "But I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

There was no answer. Greece took his eyes off Japan and stared out the window again. _Give him time_, he thought, letting his eyelids slide shut. _He'll answer when he's ready. _Sure enough, the answer came a few minutes later.

"I want to be good to him." Greece let his eyes open and turned his head.

"To America?" Another silence.

"Yes. I want to be everything he wants me to be." Japan was whispering to his lap now. "I'm sorry."

"No, there's no need to be sorry," Greece assured. "You love him."

"Please don't say that."

"Why not? It's true."

"You don't know that and neither do I. I care deeply for him, I don't know how deep it is or even how it makes me feel."

"But it makes you feel." Japan said nothing, but he might as well have screamed, _yes._ "Look, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about," Greece admitted. "I think…I think you might be hurting America and not realizing it." At this Japan finally met his gaze, but his eyes were narrowed and glared into his own with unusual fierceness. There was no denying his defensive demeanor now, and it was completely unnerving.

"What, may I ask, ever gave you that idea?" It wasn't a threatening whisper or even a growl, but an outright angry hiss. Greece was slightly taken aback, but recovered himself quickly.

"The fact you hung up on him when he told you he loved you." There was silence again. Japan's dangerous scowl faded and looked away, his black hair falling over his face. Greece let out a sigh. This hadn't gone as planned. Talking to Japan used to be so much easier. "I'm not trying to attack you, or make you feel bad, but no offense, you're not that great with handling your emotions," he explained as politely as he could. Japan still had nothing to say, so he continued. "America's different from me, Kiku. You can't just assume he knows how you feel."

"I know that," Japan whispered. "But I just can't say it back." This brought forth a bit of long-buried pain. Greece couldn't recall one time during the course of their relationship where they had exchanged 'I love yous'. He always assumed Japan needed time, that he'd say it when he was ready, but it never came. Although for Greece the loss had been minimum, America wasn't as patient, nor was he able to read into someone's actions beyond the obvious conclusions; if Japan never said he loved him, then it must be because he didn't love him.

"You're going to lose him then," Greece said quietly.

Japan tensed and his breath hitched. Greece felt a stab of guilt when he realized his previous statement was what had upset him. All defenses crumbled as the truth of Greece's words sank in.

"I-I…can't," he whimpered. "I…I…" his voice died, and Japan was crying again, shoulders quaking with poorly suppressed sobs. "Everything is so wrong. My family is falling apart and I can't even face my own feelings. I just…I just don't know what to do, Greece-kun! Taiwan is hurt, Korea and Vietnam are dead, and China doesn't even know who we are!" Greece's eyes softened, and he pulled the smaller Asian against his chest. Japan may have been all about upholding personal honor, but even he had his emotional limits. Well, since he was vulnerable, Greece had a feeling it was now or never he would say what he needed to say.

"I know you're scared right now, but don't push away the one good thing that has come out of this." There, he said it, but it didn't seem like Japan heard him as the other country simply cried for another hour, softly and barely audible. Italy had long since returned from his trip to the bathroom, but upon seeing Japan weeping, decided not to interfere and went to the back of the plane to stare out the window. It was the only thing besides sleeping that would pass the time, but after what happened in Hanoi, Italy dared not close his eyes.

Greece merely rubbed soothing circles into Japan's back, careful to remind himself that he was only a friend and nothing more. Finally, Japan calmed and pulled away, his hands balling in his lap as he trembled.

"America has…the most beautiful smile," he murmured to himself. Greece decided to answer anyway.

"He does?" Japan gave a barely visible nod, almost as if he didn't realize who he was even talking to.

"I want him to smile all the time. I have never wanted something so badly before and I want it for myself, not for my boss or even for my people, just for me." Japan paused. "It's a stupid and cliche' thing to want, and it won't do anybody any good, help the world, or our people, but I…I just want it so, so badly."

"Then you have to be honest with him." There was a sharp intake of breath, and Japan leaned into his hands, shaking his head pathetically.

There really wasn't anything more to say after that. Greece wasn't known for giving long lectures, and he had a feeling his effort would be wasted anyway if he started now. One thing about Japan was that he was comparable to one of China's finger traps. If forced to do something, he'd balk and shut down, only holding on tighter to what he thought was the right thing. However, when merely guided to the right path Japan would eventually admit defeat and let the bad choice go.

Yet, Greece still had one more thing he needed to get off of his chest. Perhaps it would make no difference, but it needed to be said regardless.

"I hope you find it in yourself to apologize." Again, Japan didn't react. Perhaps he was stunned and unable to answer, or (on a more frustrating note, Greece thought) he hadn't been listening in the first place. To Greece, it didn't matter. He'd given his advice and whether or not Japan followed it was not up to him.

"Oh my God!" Italy's voice cried out. As if waken from a stupor, Japan jumped out of his seat and hurried to the back, Greece following closely.

"What is it, Italy-kun?" Japan questioned. Italy was glued to the window and as he turned, his face was sickly pale, while his brown eyes were wide with horror. He pointed to the outside, saying merely one word. "Look."

Greece and Japan obeyed, and Greece was utterly horrified to see what looked like a sea of fire and smoke roaring far beneath them. What had once been a city was now nothing but a heaping wasteland of flames and broken buildings, smoldering and collapsing.

"You're looking at Ottawa, boys," the pilot explained solemnly. Greece had to brace both hands on either side of the circular window to keep from falling forward. So this was what the killers did to a nation's heart. This was what made a nation lose their immortality, thus rendering them vulnerable to be killed by normal means. It was awful to see, and just imagining Athens in such ruins was enough to make his throat constrict and eyes burn. "Good news though," the pilot continued. "Looks like Washington was able to scrape by. The unknown attackers retreated. Still, they're saying the damage is unbelievable."

Greece, glanced over in time to see Japan's forehead pressed against the glass, whispering to himself, eyes closed.

* * *

The rest of the trip was uneventful, and after flying over the fire once called Ottawa, they arrived in Toronto a few hours later. As they hailed a cab, Greece was unnerved to find that the streets were practically empty, and every television monitor was changed to a news report, the burning Ottawa the constant picture as they drove towards Canada's townhouse.

The people that were out on the street merely stood in shock, watching through store windows as their nation's capital was destroyed, and helpless to stop it. A few times the damaged, but still functional Washington was shown, but for once, Canada had the attention over his older twin. Whereas America had lost the White House and nearly all of his memorials, Canada lost everything. No one had been left alive in Ottawa, and the fear was suffocating, even for Greece, who in the ruckus of World Meetings was able to take a peaceful nap.

"This is bad," Italy murmured softly, glancing out the window and at the few shocked and pale faces on the sidewalk. Even the cab driver had his radio turned on, the reporters explaining every vivid detail of Ottawa's collapse. "This is really, really bad."

"We need to get America, and then we need to stay home for a few days before we do anything," Japan said, fidgeting in his seat. "We need rest." Italy agreed. Greece said nothing, his eyes wide and the unreal prickle of terror edging into the corner of his mind.

Finally, the taxi pulled up to the house, but even from a distance they could all see America sitting on the stoop, rocking back and forth like a man caught in a drug induced hallucination. A small white polar bear was cradled in his arms, but America was staring out ahead, his mouth open in what looked like a silent scream.

As soon as the taxi pulled up to the stoop, Japan was the first one out. He hurried over to where America sat rocking and pulled him into a hug, letting out a steady breath he had apparently been holding since they first got in the taxi.

"Who?" Kumajirou wondered, tilting his head as he stared oddly at Japan.

"You're okay," he murmured in relief. "I'm so relieved." Greece only needed to study America for a moment before coming to the conclusion the younger nation was _not_ okay. He wasn't okay at all.

"I felt him die," America whispered, his voice trembling horribly. Japan pulled back, his eyes brimming with tears and concern as he let one palm rest against the other nation's cheek.

"Felt who?" Italy asked, keeping close to Greece.

"Canada," America answered, his voice barely audible, even in the eerie quiet. "They took him from here first, then he was burned. I felt it. I felt him burn with Ottawa. I was too late. I was too late."

"Ameri-" Japan began, but stopped himself when he brought his hand away from the younger country's face. Greece felt mildly nauseated to see Japan's palm and fingers covered in red.

Blood was dripping down from a gash on America's head, smearing the right lens of his glasses. He continued to rock back and forth like a mental patient, clutching Kumajirou to his chest as if the polar bear were his final lifeline. His eyes were opaque and dark, almost black instead of their former bright blue. "I felt them kill him." Greece looked down at America's hands to see him clutching a pair of goggles along with Kumajirou. The lenses were cracked and the thick elastic band was spotted with what was unmistakably blood.

"Alfred, it's okay," Japan murmured softly in a tender voice Greece had never heard him use. He watched as Japan held his arms out, this time awaiting permission before touching the distressed country. America's hold on Kumajirou tightened as his horribly blank eyes fixated and focused for the first time since they arrived. He blinked slowly, and upon seeing Japan, the life flowed back into his face, eyes welling up and spilling over.

"K-Kiku, Matthew is dead!" America screamed, throwing himself forward into the other country's arms. Japan caught him held tightly, Kumajirou letting out a slightly confused,

"Who?"

"I'm so sorry," the older nation murmured into America's hair, stroking the back of his head and closing his own eyes. America's sobs were wracking as he pressed himself against Japan, turning his head so that his face was hidden in the other nation's shoulder. The embracing countries shivered.

Greece was surprised by Japan's quickness in consoling America. When they had been together, Japan was the one who needed assurances and comforting, now it was apparent that the roles had been reversed. The only difference was America obviously fully returned Japan's feelings and wasn't shy in showing it.

"Matthew!" he wailed, his fingers trembling so hard they dropped the goggles onto the sidewalk. He sank to his knees, and Japan followed, allowing America to slump forward as his cries shook his entire body. Kumajirou was placed on the ground, allowing America to twist his fingers in the back of Japan's relief uniform, not unlike the way Korea had. Greece felt a chill run up his spine at the thought.

Hearing a soft sniff beside him, Greece turned his head to find Italy crying quietly, rubbing his eyes. Greece felt a wave of sympathy wash over him. Of course Italy was upset over this particular death. America and Canada were twins, just like Italy and Romano. Without a second thought, Greece let his hand rest on the smaller nation's shoulder and squeezed.

He wasn't particularly upset himself, not even knowing really who Canada was, but it was painstakingly clear what the unknown country meant to America, and it didn't take a microscope to see what America meant to Japan. In a way, Greece was proud and happy Japan finally loved someone, but there was still a touch of awkwardness and envy mixed in. He had loved Japan more than anyone he had ever slept with, taking extreme care their first time, and finding his embarrassment afterwards intoxicating as well as adorable. Now here he was holding someone else.

But that was okay. It was wonderful to see someone who was so awkward in feeling anything become so devoted. Of course there was the brief flash of 'why couldn't it have been me?' but it was over and gone the second it came. "It's all my fault! It's all my fault!" America cried repeatedly. "I told! I told!"

"Told what?" Greece asked before he could stop himself. Another shock ran through America's body, and his crying stopped abruptly, as if turned off by a switch. Japan's eyes opened and Greece saw the unmistakable look of horror dawn on his face. Beneath his hand, Italy stiffened.

Slowly, America pulled back and stared at Greece for what seemed like hours. Greece had to admit he was perturbed as America's eyes, although full of tears, were utterly hollow. It was like staring into two bottomless wells. No, it was like looking into Switzerland's face again the day after he was murdered. It made him shift uncomfortably.

"Japan, what is Greece doing here?" his voice was flat, and his flushed face unfeeling. Greece had to look away from those horrible eyes and instead focused on Japan, who had his head bowed in shame. The smaller nation's fingertips still touched the sides of America's arms, as if preparing for him to bolt. Then Greece knew. "You lied to me." Japan hadn't told America he was going to be helping in Hanoi. "I-I can't believe it." America gave a dry laugh, although there was not a trace of humor.

"I…" Japan faltered, still not able to look America in the eye.

"You lied to me. I asked you if anyone else was going and you said no." Greece wanted to say something, but was at loss for words. He wasn't sure if he should be defending Japan or strangling him silly. After their talk on the plane, he was sure they had covered everything that needed to be covered regarding his treatment of America. Apparently, he should of mentioned lying as a definite no-no too, though he thought for sure that was self explanatory.

"Forgive me," was all Japan whispered. Greece watched with his own spike of guilt as America slowly backed away from Japan, still on his knees. However, there was something strange about him. His eyes were just so empty. So void of any feeling or emotion. It was like watching a robot, a robot who could act, but a robot nonetheless. Was this what happened when twin nations were separated by death?

He looked at Italy and frowned. No, this wasn't right. Italy's eyes although now a bit burdened were still full of life. America didn't even look burdened. He looked empty, as if every move was programmed into him previously.

"You want me to forgive you?" America repeated dully. Japan's hands were still outstretched towards the younger country, his fingers twitching for contact.

"If you can," Japan whispered. America's eyes narrowed, although there was still no feeling, not even anger.

"Fine," America hissed. "I forgive you, but I see I expected too much." Japan flinched. "I just assumed after you shoved your tongue down my throat at the airport and before you left to pity fuck your ex overtop the remains of your sister's capital, you wanted something more, but I guess I was wrong." Okay, that was too far. Greece was about to speak up, but held his tongue when Italy gave him a dire look and shook his head quickly.

"America has every right to be angry, and Japan needs to hear it," he whispered.

"But that was uncalled for," Greece argued, seeing the hurt register on Japan's face.

"Yes, but this is between them. If we jump in we'll only make it worse, that's what Germany told me about Hungary and Prussia, and I think it's the same here," Italy reasoned. Greece turned his head back to watch the current predicament, knowing with regret that Italy was right. If he tried to defend Japan, he'd only make America angrier and Japan even more embarrassed with himself. He sighed with the knowledge of this not being his fight.

"Greece-san and I didn't do anything," Japan murmured, his cheeks reddening as he lowered his hands to his lap.

"How can I believe that?" America asked, tears returning and falling down his face. His eyes were no longer empty, but full of hurt and betrayal. "How can I believe you after you lied about him even being there with you? Why would you lie to me in the first place if nothing was going to happen between you?"

"I didn't want you to think…" Japan's voice failed, and Greece noticed the way his voice cracked at the end.

"Didn't want me to think what? That you were going to meet Greece to be with him?"

"I told you, we didn't do anything," Japan repeated. Much to Greece's surprise, Italy jumped in, contradicting his own earlier advice. It appeared he couldn't stand his friend being accused of something he didn't do, even if it was a perfectly sensible conclusion to come to.

"Japan is telling the truth, America," he confirmed. "We were together the entire time, and he wasn't anywhere near Greece."

"If anything, he was avoiding me," Greece inputted, not sure how much it was going to help, but wanting to contribute something to spare Japan's integrity.

"You still lied to me," America said softly, staring at Japan as if seeing him for the first time. "Why? What did I do to make you not trust me? I was going to figure it out sooner or later, but do you really think I was so stupid that I couldn't? Did you think my people wouldn't tell me? O-Or that I'd hear about it on the news or from my boss that Greece was helping?"

"I don't think you're stupid at all!" Japan exclaimed finally looking up and scooting closer to America, who made no move whatsoever. "America, I just didn't want you to worry about what I was doing while Canada was in so much trouble."

"Yeah, well Canada's dead now!" America snapped, the pain of realization causing his face to crumple. "He's dead because I told him you killed Mr. Reynolds!"

"What?!" Greece shouted, his eyes widening in shock. He glanced down at Italy to see the smaller nation's eyes locked with his boots. Apparently he was the only one left out of the loop. He stared at Japan for conformation and found the Asian nation's eyes glazed over with terror.

"America," Japan murmured, his tone almost begging. America lifted his face so he was now glaring at the other country.

"I'm not a liar like you!" he snarled. "I think Greece should know what you've been up to."

"Greece-san, cover your ears!" Japan shouted desperately. In that moment, as soon as his and Japan's eyes met, something inside Greece told him his fate had been sealed. He was going to hear something he didn't want to, and judging from the fear expressed in Japan's voice and usually calm eyes, it might very well be the first nail in his coffin.

"No," America muttered murderously to the ground as he slowly stood up. The movement reminded Greece of a broken puppet being pulled up by the marionette strings, each limb loose and on the verge of crumpling. "It's too late, he already knows." Greece wasn't sure what was going on, but he looked from Japan, to America and finally to Italy. His heart, usually so mellow and rhythmic, picked up its pace in a wild flurry of beats that made him slightly lightheaded.

"Kiku…you…you didn't," he whispered, horrified. Never before had he heard of a nation killing another nation's boss. "They said…they said you were with Vietnam."

"He did," America confirmed, lifting his head slowly. His expression was absolutely terrifying, and Greece took an involuntary step backwards. "She was his alibi."

_His eyes…_

…they were so horribly black, empty and unfeeling as before. Strands of blond hair, usually so neatly flipped to the side, were hanging in his face, his brows slanted in a frown. "About a month ago, Japan killed my boss who was brutally beating me everyday. It was in Hong Kong where the murder took place in a shipyard by the ports. Everyone who knew about it including Finland, Vietnam, Canada and Cuba have all either been killed or disappeared, simply meaning their bodies have yet to be found." Greece wasn't sure what to say to that, and again looked around the group of faces, futilely hoping to find an answer.

"America, that's enough," Japan growled lowly. America paid no attention, his horrid black eyes fixated on Greece like a starving dog's to a roasted turkey. Nobody said a word, all gazes locked on America. Even Kumajirou looked up at him in apparent concern.

"Finland disappeared the night he witnessed it, and I told Canada the first day I was in the hospital after my states were killed while Japan was in the bathroom. Afterward, Canada went to go speak with Cuba, and the very night of my brother presumably telling him about it, Cuba was gruesomely murdered."

"That's enough, America!" Japan warned, standing up as well, eyes suddenly blazing. America didn't look once at him, completely attentive to Greece and Greece alone. Greece felt trapped by that gaze, by that sickening stare which seemed so intent on burning his soul. America merely continued on.

"Then four days later, Vietnam, who served as Japan's alibi during the murder, went missing. Why do you think her capital was destroyed? She knew, that's why."

"_America_," Japan hissed venomously, his brown eyes narrowing. Greece heard another whimper and felt Italy hold tight to his arm.

"Before that though, Canada called me an hour after Cuba's initial murder in hysterics. Then for three weeks he was stalked before finally being killed." Something deranged flashed in America's colorless eyes. His fingers curled into makeshift claws and he began scratching the top of his head with reckless abandon, growling lowly in his chest. Narrowed eyes suddenly widened until they were on the verge of popping out of his skull. "Everybody who knows disappears or dies, and now you know Greece! You know and now you'll die!" America's teeth grit, his own expression becoming wild with terror. The scratching only appeared to intensify as he shrilly chanted, "You're going to die, you're going to die, you're going to die, you're going to--"

"_I SAID ENOUGH!_" Japan yelled so loudly his voice echoed throughout the abandoned street. His outburst was followed by a clear, sharp crack. Greece felt all the air leave his lungs in a gasp as Japan's hand connected with America's cheek roughly. America's head jerked to the side from the impact, causing his glasses to fly off and land on the sidewalk with a clatter. He fell onto his side with a grunt, the thick material of his bomber jacket hissing against the concrete.

Greece hadn't been aware of how hard his heart was racing as he merely stared down at the blond country. Ever so slowly, much like the way he stood up earlier, America got to his knees. His hair continued to block his expression as he lifted his hand to place over his newly reddened cheek.

Greece's chest felt tight when he became aware of Italy pressing against him, trembling in fear. He placed his hand over the smaller country's and took another involuntary step back, his mouth open agape. He looked at Japan, who was breathing harshly, his hand still outstretched from where he had slapped America.

"You have every right to be upset with me, but Greece-san only wanted to help! That gives you no right to put him in danger!" Japan shouted. America reached out to where his glasses lay, surprisingly unbroken.

"'Upset' doesn't even begin to cover what I'm feeling right now," America said quietly, placing them back on his face with both hands. There was a heated quiet for what felt like hours before America spoke again. "You almost broke Texas. It's the only state left. It's the only one that can't be killed, but if they break…" he didn't bother to finish as he got to his feet and turned towards Japan, still not looking up. "Did you know Mr. Reynolds used to have me take Texas off before he'd hit me in the face?" Japan's arm lowered and he looked to the side, his cheeks coloring in discomfort.

"No," he answered. It was clear he was ashamed of his emotional reaction.

"At least _he_ gave me that decency," America stated, his voice surprisingly calm and level. Albeit not very expressive, but borderline sane at least.

"There's no decency to be had when someone hits someone else," Japan said softly.

"Then you must also be a hypocrite," America growled. "Did you also know the true reason Canada came over yesterday before he was murdered?" he questioned, his voice back to that eerie, flat tone as he diverted the subject. Japan didn't dignify that with an answer, and Greece all of a sudden wanted to beat the snot out of the younger nation. "He was watching the news and found the list of nations helping with the relief effort in Hanoi, along with every other relief effort currently taking place, all of which, I might add, I'm involved in, including Moscow and Helsinki."

There an uncomfortable quiet that hung over the four nations like a mourner's veil, for all life seemed to be wilting away from the land. Even the people of Toronto were glued to whatever screen they could find, horrified by the destruction of their nation's capital. However, America's blunt, yet at the same time, sharp voice broke the air. "He told me Greece was with you." At this, Japan became utterly shocked, but his brown eyes narrowed as he recovered and growled through clenched teeth.

"You knew already, then what's this behavior about?" he demanded, true anger leaking into his voice.

"No." America shook his head. "I didn't know because I refused to believe him. I didn't even watch the news because I trusted you so much. I really did. After you found out Mr. Reynolds was beating me, you still didn't tell anyone. I thought…I thought I was important to you, so I didn't believe my brother when he told me the truth. I remember the last thing I called him was a liar, when it was you all along who was the liar." There was another drawn out silence, only this one was pregnant with something foul and deformed, building it up. Greece could feel it.

America lifted his head again, tears flowing down his cheeks. On the surface he appeared heartbroken, but he was once more awed by the void in America's eyes. "I just want you to feel what I feel, Japan!" he cried, lifting his hands to cover his face, rendering him similar to a small boy.

"I know," Japan murmured quietly, his own voice strained as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around America again, all anger vanquished. "I'm so sorry."

"You were there for me when Mr. Reynolds was at his worst and then you got rid of him!" America wept. "That's why I could never believe you would lie to me, but you did! Why? If you had just told me about Greece I wouldn't have minded! I just wanted to know you'd tell me the truth!"

"I know, I know, I was stupid," Japan soothed, stroking the back of America's head again. "I'm so, so sorry I hurt you."

Greece suddenly got the hideous notion Japan was apologizing for slapping him and not at all for lying. If that were the case, then he was going to hurt America even more without realizing it. This made Greece's own chest throb with agony. Japan was trying so hard, but his detachment was giving America's own feelings a sharp edge. The two were doomed to fall apart if this didn't change, and Greece knew that if it didn't, the fallout would ruin Japan.

"I want to go home," America whispered shakily into the older country's chest.

"Alright," Japan soothed.

"I want my brother."

Japan said nothing.

* * *

Super Shout Outs to all you guys who have stuck with us through the insanity. Next chapter is the last one before the reveal and the only thing I can say is pay attention. Lucky has left me to go on a cruise TAT So I hope to have this arc all done by the time she gets back. Which is in a week. I can do this. The reveal is already written all I have to do is write one more chap. I can do that, right? You guys believe in me, right?

**My Precious Laith, Tinkeroftime, GuiltlessLie, Chipmunk-Chihuahua Hybrid, WhimsicalShmoo, RingmasterLady, pudding-san, CrimsonSpecter, Canadino, Celestial Sara, bettyhime, dragoneian, avaspongeriffic, devsHaruhi-x, LupinandHarry, CanadianCookie, HandInTheCookieJar, Kara2992, AikoujOi, Kari Kurofai, WinButler, Ichi Hime-Sama, ninjafox369, justinewhitlock4eva, AikoujOi, xYukii, Bananawings72, Tomatos-Potatos, bombayxprodigy, yorune, LightBender, Darona, SoDesuKa, and...**

**Reaper-Lawliet **


	27. The Candyman

Pay attention. Reveal is the next chapter. Depending on the turnout I might either post it later today or tomorrow. Thank you all again, and my only advice is look carefully at everything in this chapter.

Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia

* * *

"Canada's dead," America's voice said lowly on the other end of the phone. France's hand almost dropped the receiver as his blue eyes widened in shock. Now out of a wheelchair, he had a feeling he was going to need it again as his knees began to tremble uncontrollably. He felt England take his shoulders and vaguely heard him ask if he was feeling dizzy.

France was feeling lightheaded, but it was the kind of lightheaded caused by shock rather than by his head injury, which had for the most part healed, other than a few mornings when France woke up with blurred vision. Still, denial washed over him and he spoke dryly into the receiver again.

"I m-must have misunderstood you, I--"

"No, he's dead," America's voice was becoming strained. "I-I felt it happen."

"Oh," France suddenly wanted to puke. He stared at England, who was looking back at him with concern written all over his face.

"What is it?" he mouthed. France turned away and didn't answer him, he couldn't. He couldn't say those words. Not his little one, not his Canada. After America chose England, he was heartbroken, but upon finding the younger twin it was as if the world was made fair again. He loved Canada, and now…

"I-I'm sorry, but I wanted to tell you first…" America faltered and France heard a hitched breath on the other end. "I didn't get to his house in time before they took him to Ottawa."

"Can you fly, America?" France asked softly, almost without thinking.

"No."

"Is it…?"

"Yes."

France lifted his hand and placed it over his mouth. He closed his eyes and felt England take the receiver from his limp hand. His hand was braced against the side table, trembling along with his knees.

"America? What is it?" England sounded irritated, not like that was anything special. "Who is dead?" Then England's entire body stiffened and his expression mimicked France's. "My God. You really…? No, no I-I understand it's just…" England toyed with his collar uncomfortably. "Alright then, just…look, I haven't been the greatest to you, but I just want you to know you are important to me."

France couldn't take anymore and he fell to his knees, weeping. Canada flashed through his mind, each new image of the boy's face bringing with it a new lash of pain. He stifled his crying to listen, but couldn't find the strength to get up.

"France is really upset," he heard England say before an arm wrapped around his back. "I know, but are you going to be okay?" France turned and hid his face in England's chest, feeling the other nation's chin rest on top of his head. England's chest deflated as he let out a sigh. "Are you sure about this?" There was a long pause. "Okay." France felt the other nation's fingers run through his hair and quieted himself again, this time barely breathing. "Alright then, I hope you know what you're doing." France felt England's hand on his cheek and met the concerned green of the other nation's. "He wants to talk to you." France took the receiver with both longing and dread. He let out a shaky breath, pressing close to England for support.

"Y-Yes?" On the other end there was nothing but soft breathing. Then, America spoke again in a saddened whisper.

"I'm sorry. For everything_. _You won't hear from me again after this." There was a click and a dial tone. France calmly put the receiver back on the hook, his lips trembling as he tried to suppress his sobbing. Canada was really gone.

"It really happened," France said brokenly, staring up at England, still feeling the slow trickle of tears. Wordlessly, England pulled him closer before depositing a soft kiss on his lips, then hugged him. There were no insults or personal jabs, just complete consolation as France stared up at the ceiling.

Canada, his Canada was gone. America was going to take his land, and enforce his government on the remaining people. His chest hurt so much as he silently stared, no longer sobbing or making any sounds. England continued to stroke the back of his head, but also remained utterly silent, and France knew who he was really grieving for.

* * *

Three days had passed since Italy, Japan, Greece, and America returned from Toronto, and Japan was looking down at a clear box with some strange pink liquid inside. His heart was beating away in his chest as the ever-present, yet quiet paranoia sparked. On top of the box was a what looked like a gift bag, complete with flowing pink ribbons and a white card attached to the handles.

Japan only stared, dreading what it could be, yet strangely transfixed. So much was going on that if it turned out to be something terrible, he'd find himself living through another panic attack very much like the one he had a few nights prior. Breathing had suddenly become impossible, and it felt as if his chest were going to explode, his body breaking into cold sweat.

Greece and Italy were constant worries in Japan's mind. Would they disappear now that they knew about Reynolds? The day they returned from Toronto, Greece had assured him, despite Japan's fearful warnings, it was all alright and that he'd be fine.

"_Really, Japan I'll be okay! America's just upset right now, but don't worry he'll forgive you! I have to go though, my boss will worry," _Greece had assured before getting into the taxi. _"Just remember what I said on the plane." _Then he got in, and the taxi drove away, leaving a haggard Japan to watch it dissolve into darkness.

Italy had given him the same answer, already making his way back to Beijing in order to be with Germany. Japan had called them both the next day, only to get the answering machine from Greece. He had forced himself to stay calm, figuring Greece was busy, as were all the other nations, but he still fretted.

Trying to beat back another bad panic attack, Japan was soothed when Italy picked up on the second ring, sounding far more cheerful than he had in weeks. Germany was ready to come out of the hospital, and the two were planning on investigating Cuba's house before America annexed and restricted area. Usually, that would have lead to confrontations with both the other island nations and those in South America, but with things the way they were now, no nation could handle the extra responsibility of cleaning up Cuba and taking in his remaining people. That lead to the bigger issue eating away at Japan's sanity.

America had not spoken more than a few sentences to him since they returned. Only while they moved to this more remote location, and even that had been sparse. Instead he spent all his time cooped up in his room, refusing to even breathe the same air as Japan, let alone sleep in the same bed. However, living together made the endeavor impossible for long periods of time, but when they were forced into the same space, America refused to look him in the eye. This only served to further Japan's guilt.

He still brought America his food and cleaned, which led him to notice the younger country had covered all the mirrors in his room with his bed sheets, including those in the bathroom. At first Japan wasn't sure why, but on further inspection, when he was able to observe America's behavior unnoticed, he found something peculiar just as much as heart breaking.

Whenever America saw his reflection, he'd look down at his feet. Japan had a feeling he knew why and it never ceased to make him feel terrible. When America saw himself, he also saw Canada, and Japan had no idea how to deal with it. Italy was never this bad. Sure he grieved for Romano, but he hadn't wallowed in misery or shied away from his own reflection as if it were a ghost.

He didn't know what to say, because America refused to speak with him, and he didn't know what to do because America didn't want him anywhere near him. Needless to say, their dinners had gotten awkward. Yet, Japan didn't have the heart to kick him out, knowing this behavior was entirely his fault. It just hurt so much to have America act distant towards him, but he remembered the slap, the way America fell to the ground. He hated himself for that.

So, he had tried calling Greece again for some advice, but to his horror, his call didn't go through. There were no rings, just a dead signal and an operator who cheerfully told him the line was disconnected. Japan's heart had frozen in horror and he automatically tried dialing the number again, and was met with the same dead signal and the automated female voice telling him the line no longer existed.

Without really thinking, Japan had hurried out the front door, intent to go see if Greece was okay, but was stopped when he saw the box and the little gift bag on his porch. Now here he was, torn between ignoring it and running for Greece, and indulging in what he knew was a stupid idea, and opening the bag. Japan swallowed roughly and looked around, seeing no one in sight by his quiet home near the forest. His boss had told him to stay someplace low key and off the radar, meaning he was completely isolated. So that meant whatever was inside the girly bag wasn't good.

Japan glanced over his shoulder at the interior of his house, then back down at the strange pink box and the glittery present. He closed his eyes and leaned against the doorframe momentarily, trying to gather as much strength as he could muster. Swallowing roughly, he stood straight again, and slowly walked closer to the box and bag.

There was a strange buzzing sensation in his ears that sounded almost like laughter, but he ignored it as he cautiously approached. Surely it wasn't anything too horrible. His boss had guards speckled all over this area. Still, something deep within him told him not to look. It was the same feeling he had shortly before leaving for Hanoi about never seeing America smile again. It was a powerful feeling, some deep instinct that begged him not to look.

So he listened and didn't open it. Instead, he cautiously took the edge of the card and removed it from the strings. His bandaged fingernails made it harder for him to grasp the paper along with the fact his hands were trembling uncontrollably as he unfolded it.

_You should really take care of how you dispose of things. They have a tendency to come back to haunt you. _

_- B_

_P.S. Purple and White insisted they pretty him up before I sent him to you._

_P.S.S By the way, the smoothie in the box there is what's left of Greece. Seems he didn't enjoy our game of tag at the loose meat factory as much as I did. Sadly he didn't put up much of a challenge ): _

_Your sister was far more amusing. _

Japan reread the message, felt like he was going to throw up, but stared at the bag again. The feeling that begged him not to open it was prevalent, yet Japan's hand still reached for the opening.

_What are you thinking, you damn idiot? _a voice in his head screamed. Strangely enough, it sounded a lot like Korea. _You need to get out of here! You need to grab America and run! Don't look! Don't look! Whatever you do, don't look! _Korea's voice chanted wildly.

However, Japan found his body moving on its own. His bandaged fingertips disappeared into the hem of the bag and pulled the edges apart.

_Japan, I'm warning you, don't look in there! _Korea insisted loudly. Figuring he was already insane just by hearing his dead brother's voice, Japan ignored all common sense and peered inside, his lips pursed against a scream. From within the shadows of the bag, a pair of wide milky eyes were staring back at him. He knew those eyes. They were the same eyes that stared up at him as he stabbed their owner in the neck with his katana. They were the same eyes that glinted with perverse pleasure when America cringed in fear.

Japan let out a sharp gasp and fell on his backside, pain searing up his spine. However, he didn't stay still for long and scrambled backwards to the doorway, his heart racing so fast it almost felt as if it weren't beating at all.

Gripping the frame, he pulled himself into a crouching position and stared at the bag and horrible clear box below it, a new terror overtaking him. His eyes glanced around fearfully, searching for a flash of color in the bare winter branches. There was nothing but white and Japan shakily covered his mouth as he suppressed the tide of vomit rising in his throat.

Greece…

Greece was dead. Japan felt tears gather around the rims of his eyes as he stared at the box. No, it couldn't be, but since when did a killer lie? Japan's nausea threatened to dominate him entirely when he realized that _this was all his fault_.

_I told you not to look, _Korea's voice chided from the back of his mind. Japan ignored it, instead focusing on not passing out cold on the front porch. America had been broken over Canada's death and Japan had failed him by lying, then went so far as to slap him across the face. He'd pushed America over the edge and made the one person he could lean on somebody he couldn't trust. As a result, in a moment of hurt America had lashed out and told about Reynolds. This was all Japan's doing.

The tears silently flowed to the hand clamped over his mouth as he breathed unsteadily through his nose. This was all his fault. He remembered Canada's final warning before he was killed, about what America had done to the town of Plymouth and hated himself even more.

"_Please, for your sake and everyone you care about, please, please tell him the truth." _

He should have known what Canada wanted him to do was more than just sacrifice his honor. He had wanted Japan to stop this before it began. That was why Canada had risked contacting him, even after throwing himself into isolation as he was stalked. It made him sick. When America got hurt, America attacked, just like he had during the Cold War with Russia.

Japan gave another yelp and nearly jump out of his skin when his phone rang from inside. He managed to calm himself and merely stood against the doorframe shivering for the first three rings. Then he slowly forced his feet to move inside, never taking his eyes off of the box and the bag on top of it, a part of him expecting them to attack should he turn his back on them.

Blindly, he groped for the receiver once it was in arm's reach and held it to his ear, his breathing still labored and his eyes still glued to the horror on the porch.

"H-Hello?" he asked in English, dreading what voice he might hear.

"Japan, it's Italy." Japan let out a soft sigh, but didn't relax, every muscle wound up and ready to react should the slightest disturbance take place.

"I-Italy-kun," Japan said, his voice high as it forced its way out of his mouth. It suddenly hurt to breathe, and the room appeared to close in on him, making him feel claustrophobic and trapped. "What's happening?" He tried to control his voice, tried to keep the panic from overtaking his mind.

"Japan, Germany and I are almost to your house, and we have some things to tell you," Italy explained. Had Japan been in his right mind, he would have heard the solemn note in the usually chipper nation's voice. However, Japan hadn't been in his right mind since witnessing Korea's brutal death and barely even registered what Italy was saying.

_You better listen, Kiku, _Korea warned. But Japan was far too busy staring at the box. Staring at Greece.

"That sounds fine," Japan forced himself to say.

"We'll be there in ten," Italy said before hanging up with a click. Silently, Japan hung up the phone and stood in a stupor for a few moments, then his knees trembled and he collapsed onto them, on the verge of a full-blown mental breakdown. His chest was killing him from all the strain it took to breathe and his broken fingernails throbbed from beneath the bandages.

He tried to keep the panic at bay, tried to keep rational thoughts in place, but as the realization sank in that while he was looking at a clear box, he was also looking at Greece, the panic became stronger.

_Keep it together, Kiku, _he thought to himself.

_You haven't had it together for awhile now, _Korea said sadly. This was the last semi-coherent thought that went through Japan's mind before the panic descended in a title wave over his mind, obliterating all.

The next thing he knew, he was shoveling dirt back over a hole, his arms and aged back aching. He stopped in his work and looked down at the plot of fresh soil and ruined snow before turning back to the porch. The bag and the box were gone. He was feeling a bit better now that the air wasn't so thick, but he was far from okay. No, he wasn't going to be okay for a long time. With a weary body he went back to his shed and put the spade he was carrying away. He didn't bother placing it in the correct spot by his other gardening tools and merely tossed it inside before slamming the door.

His shoes and pant legs were soaked with melted snow as he made his way back to the porch and sat down, staring at the road. His fingernails were searing with pain from the effort, but he ignored them, staring intently at the road. Italy and Germany couldn't know about this. Japan just wanted to forget it and to move on. It was his fault, therefore he shouldn't burden anyone else with it.

_But that was Heracles! _he thought to himself.

_No, it was just a box, _the ignorant part of his brain argued. _It was just a box. It was just a box. _

_You're losing it Kiku, _Korea's voice noted.

He realized with dull unease that he was rocking involuntarily, but did nothing to stop himself. The cold wind was bitter as it bit through his clothes and attacked his skin, making him erupt in goosebumps, but he didn't want to go inside. America was inside. The person he failed. The reason why Heracles was dead.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for the car to show up and Italy and Germany to appear out of the rear door. Italy promptly slipped on a patch of ice with a squeal, forcing Germany to lunge forward and catch him before he smacked the back of his head on the frozen ground. Luckily, Germany steadied him and it didn't take long for Italy to muster the coordination to come up the walk and greet Japan.

Germany looked as terrible as Japan had remembered him: half of his face scarred and his shaven head covered in a wool-knit cap. A black eye patch covered his missing eye, and one scar in particular that went from the corner of Germany's mouth all the way to his jawbone made it appear as if he were permanently scowling.

Only, Japan realized with growing dread, Germany really _was _scowling, his hands balled into dangerous fists. Japan felt alarm flare as the taller nation approached. He risked a glance at Italy and found the smaller nation's expression apologetic.

"What were you thinking!?" Germany hissed through his teeth. He grabbed Japan roughly by the shoulders, lifted him off the porch and shook him violently.

"I-I'm sorry, Germany-sama! I-I h-have n-no idea w-what y-you're t-talking a-about!" Japan managed to exclaim through the other nation's rough jarring.

"You know very well what I'm talking about you _Narr!" _Germany snarled angrily, his single blue eye blazing.

"I-I had to tell him about Reynolds," Italy spoke up shakily from his place huddled by Germany's side. _"Mi dispiace!" _

"Great," Japan sighed, letting his head loll back until he was staring at the sky. However, he quickly lifted it back up when he decided bearing his jugular to an enraged Germany wasn't the smartest choice. "Yes Germany-sama, I killed Reynolds. What would you like me to do about it?"

"First off, listen to what we have to tell you," Germany growled.

"He will _Doitsu, _but you have to put him down first!" Italy cried, latching onto Germany's arm. Germany gave a low growl, but released Japan's shoulders and stepped away.

"Well, aren't you going to invite us in?" he prompted after a moment of uncomfortable silence. Japan nearly blanched at the thought of returning inside the unfamiliar house and to the claustrophobia and shook his head.

"America is sleeping. I don't want to disturb him." It was a pathetic excuse, but it worked as Italy nodded.

"Yeah, good idea, what we're about to tell you might upset him," Italy agreed, unusually down. However, Japan was only half there, the other part of his mind hovering over the new patch of upturned earth in his yard.

"True, but it's very cold out here," Germany muttered. Italy gave a weak smile and took his hand.

"No worries, Germany. I'm sure it won't take long to tell Japan what we found."

"Let's walk by the woods," Japan suggested, heading in the direction opposite of where he had buried Greece and Reynolds' head.

"Alright, Japan, you're not going to like what we have to say, but it's important you listen," Germany began. Japan nodded, trying to stay focused and keep his mind from wandering to the hole on the other side of his yard.

"I'm listening."

"Japan," Italy began uncomfortably. "We…we, uh…" the smaller country looked down at his gloved hands. "We…think..." Italy wet his lips despite the freezing air and shivered. Japan merely stared dully at him, still in the grips of shock from his earlier discovery. "Japan, please don't shut down when you hear this, please," Italy begged almost desperately. "But…we think America may be a killer." At this Japan froze abruptly, the crunching of the snow beneath his feet silencing as he halted. His breath rose before him like a steamy cloud as his bottom jaw went slack.

"I told you, you weren't going to like it," Germany reminded softly, his single blue eye troubled. Japan didn't speak for a long time, trying to get his mind around it. America was…a killer? No, it wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Just like that clear box full of pink liquid couldn't be true.

"We're sorry Japan, but after going to Cuba's house and getting some help hacking into a few government files, it all adds up," Italy explained. Japan didn't answer, couldn't answer. America's beautiful smile flashed before his eyes, his dopey grin at World Meetings and the tender look he gave before Japan left for Hanoi, thus betraying him. No. Not his America. America wasn't like that. He wouldn't do that…to Greece.

"_You're going to die, you're going to die, you're going to die, you're going to--" _

"Explain," was the only thing he could say.

"Right after Cuba was killed, Canada called America in hysterics," Italy began.

"I know that," was all Japan said.

"We got the recording from the original call," Germany said, his voice grave. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew a tape recorder and hit play. Canada's voice rose from the speaker, laced with terror and panic, conveying Japan's earlier feelings perfectly.

"No I can't calm down! I'm next, Alfred! Don't you see? I'm next! I can feel someone following me!" Suddenly, Canada gave a surprised yelp and the phone dropped. There were harsh scuffling sounds and low voices coupled with what sounded like screams. Then, the line went dead. Germany hit the stop button.

"What does that mean?" Japan asked, the nausea from before rearing its ugly head.

"It means Canada disappeared right after he called America," Italy answered. Unlike before, where any clue about the killers seemed to excite Italy to no end, he now seemed truly regretful of his findings, almost ashamed. "Canada's phone was bugged long before this call took place, that's why we were able to get the recording. Whoever took Canada, left his phone for us to find. And did you notice something else?"

Japan shook his head.

"Not once did America call out for him, and not once did America tell anyone about the noises in the background," Italy reported.

_He's got a point, Japan, _Korea's voice reasoned. Japan couldn't deny the truth there. America _had _told him about the call, but not the background noises, but…

"Canada was obviously at Cuba's house when he made the call, and you were on your wild goose chase to Hong Kong and Beijing, meaning America wasn't with you, meaning he could have been anywhere."

"No!" Japan snapped, suddenly feeling dizzy. "No, you're wrong! Canada didn't disappear until three days ago!"

"No, Japan," Germany corrected. "Canada disappeared three _weeks _ago."

"But that's…" Japan faltered, remembering the call on the plane. "Impossible. H-He called me right before he was killed! He called me the day before we went to Toronto to pick up America!"

"That wasn't Canada," Italy said softly, giving Japan the most heartbreaking look. "We also had Estonia hack into Canada's government files and it turns out, his boss and pretty much his entire cabinet of elected officials have all been brutally murdered by unknown assassins around the same time America's states were being killed off."

"But it get's worse," Germany added. "Apparently, after Canada went missing and his boss and all those under him were killed. America secretly annexed the entire area and took control with a puppet government. Some people found out, and there were violent protests, but…" Germany cleared his throat before continuing. "Someone who looked like Canada calmed them and told them America's rule was only temporary. Then this person kept all this under wraps by putting themselves into isolation."

"Someone who…looked like…Canada?" Japan choked out. The cold air suddenly felt like a knife stabbing into his lungs every time he breathed.

"Someone who looks and sounds just like Canada," Italy confirmed sadly. "France and England both testified to have seen Canada after his apparent visit to America at your house to drop off Tony, shortly before Ottawa was destroyed. That was when you got America's call, _from_ Canada's house in Toronto."

"So you're saying, America dressed as Canada and went to Toronto before calling me?"

"That's right," Germany confirmed. "He wanted someone to see him as Canada so that they wouldn't know the _real_ Canada went missing. America called you twice Japan. Once as Canada, and once as himself."

"No, no, no," Japan whispered shakily, lowering his eyes and covering his mouth again. "That would…that would mean…"

"He knew you were going to be with Greece the entire time," Italy finished for him. Japan let out a choked breath, now trembling as his last interaction with America before departing for Hanoi flashed through his mind.

"_Hey Japan?" _

"_Yes?" _

"_It's just going to be you, Italy, and Korea, right?" _

What brought that up again? Why had America asked him that? Japan couldn't remember.

"_He thinks the world of you and is trying so hard to make you feel the same way about him, so don't ever lie to him or…something really terrible will happen." _

That was Canada, no, that was _America. _America knew from the beginning he was going to Hanoi with Greece. Thinking even further back, Japan felt his lungs freeze when he remembered Canada's first call. The call made after America's first stay in the hospital when Canada himself said he felt something was wrong with his brother.

"There's something else too," he admitted, trying to quell the insistent flow of dizziness and the lump rising in his throat. "Right before Cuba was killed, Canada…really did call me."

"He did?" Italy questioned. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I…I didn't think it was important," Japan explained. "It was when America was first put into the hospital after his states were killed."

"_Um…Japan…I…I think that something's wrong with Alfred."_

"What did he say?" Germany questioned.

"_I…uh…I just don't think that he's acting a lot like…himself. I mean, he acts all…normal…on the surface, but I think that there's something he's keeping back."_

"He said," Japan began softly, still staring at the snow churned around his feet. It hurt to admit this, physically put him in agony to remember the phone call he hadn't bothered to think about until now. "He said he thought something was wrong…with America," he finished and swallowed. It felt as if glass shards were being forced down his esophagus.

"What?" Italy asked, although there was no excitement, only empathy Japan was trying his hardest not to interpret as pity.

"That he was holding something back," Japan whispered. "But he hung up saying it was probably nothing and that he was just being paranoid. America is under so much stress though!" Japan added hastily.

"But Canada's disappearance itself is fishy, and who else looks just like Canada to calm his people?" Germany asked, not nearly as empathetic as Italy. He wanted Japan to get it. There was no time for hurt feelings.

"But the person on the phone sounded _just_ _like_ Canada!" Japan insisted desperately, his voice borderline hysteric.

"They're twins, dammit!" Italy said, his voice matching Romano's irritable tone perfectly. "See?" However, his facial expression appeared tired and sad. "I'm so sorry."

"As you know we also went to investigate Cuba's home and came up with this," Germany continued, reaching into the bag he was carrying and taking out two plastic bags. Inside one was a small pistol, in the other was a blue sequin bead. "The pistol was fired recently and although it was wiped clean, we think Cuba used it to shoot at the killer." Japan's mind flashed back to the night he and America shared their first real and serious kiss. America had limped to the bed. Then he remembered America's request to learn kanji. He limped then too.

"But, America was with me when Cuba was killed!" Japan argued. They had started to walk again, the cold air burrowing through their coats and into their bones. However, the panic that had overtaken Japan before was threatening to do so again and the cold was the least of his worries.

"No, he wasn't," Italy said.

"But at the hospital Canada said--"

"Looking into those files we got, it turns out Canada was delayed two days by a fear riot in Quebec before he went to visit Cuba, presumably telling him about you killing Reynolds," Germany interrupted.

"Those two days were the same two days you spent with America, then you went to find me and Germany," Italy explained. "You were gone _another _two days on your trip to Hong Kong and back, leaving America a perfect window of opportunity to get out of the hospital without you knowing."

_Little did Japan know that as soon as he left the room, America swung his legs over the edge of the bed, face darkening as his eyes narrowed gravely._

"So while you were running around China, America made his way to Cuba's house and killed him," Italy finished.

"And Vietnam went missing the night before I returned from Hong Kong," Japan breathed shakily. "Cuba was killed two days later than we originally thought."

"All of this took place when you weren't with America," Italy said. Japan felt dizzy, his head was reeling so fast, he thought for sure he was going to faint. America wasn't a killer. He couldn't be. I-It didn't make any sense whatsoever.

"So the explosion at Hong Kong's house?" Japan asked weakly.

"Was a distraction to get you away from his bedside," Germany finished.

"H-He…" Japan murmured brokenly. "He wouldn't…America…" he couldn't finish and covered his mouth with his hand. He wrapped his other arm around himself.

"Another thing you should know is that Greece went missing the night we returned to your house from Hanoi," Italy said. Japan's eyes widened as that horrible clear box came back to mind. "Athens is destroyed and," Italy paused, his expression filling with pain. "Germany managed to speak with Iceland again."

"Yes, he told me about one killer in particular named Blue. He said Blue was the only killer not there when he was tortured, which was right after Romano and Spain were murdered," Germany reported.

"Meaning it was during the time Reynolds was still alive," Italy informed. Now Japan let out a sharp gasp that sent a blade of cold air tearing through his lungs. It took everything within him not to fall over and faint right there in the snow.

"What are you trying to tell me?" he whispered, only this whisper wasn't weak like the ones before it. It was restrained.

"The reason Reynolds hit America was--"

"Don't you _dare _finish that thought," Japan hissed, cutting across Germany. Suddenly the dizziness was gone, replaced by fury. America was a self-proclaimed hero, so innocent and fun-loving. How _dare_ they try to tell Japan he was a killer? Japan took a few steps away and glared at them.

"_Nihon_," Italy murmured, reaching a hand out for him.

"No!" Japan snapped. "Both of you are wrong! America wouldn't do this! He's not a killer!"

"You're blinded by your emotions, Japan. The evidence is all right here," Germany said calmly.

"You were the one who was so hesitant to believe America was a killer before, if I do remember correctly!" Japan snapped.

"That was before we had evidence. America needs to at least be detained before he kills someone else," Germany replied reasonably.

"America didn't kill anyone! He's locked in his room with bed sheets over the mirrors because his reflection looks like Canada!" Japan yelled. "He's angry at me and he's hurt and…" the burst of anger began to fade as the evidence all came back to him, swimming before his eyes and making them water. "He…" Japan's voice faded as he rubbed his eyes. He imagined America, how hard he'd been trying to make him happy and to smile. The America who had said those three little words, the America who held him and kissed him so softly wasn't…

"Here," Germany said, once again reaching into his bag and withdrawing a handful of photos. Japan wordlessly took them and tried not to keel over and vomit. He was looking at severed limbs. Arms sprawled away from a bleeding torso. He flipped through them hurriedly, and came to a picture of a dead orangutan. The monkey's eyes were milky (just like Reynolds') and its intestines were pouring out of its slashed gut. "That's what was left of Cuba and his pet, Viva," Germany explained without waiting for Japan's reaction.

"Look at the way the parts are cut," Italy directed, pointing to one of Cuba's arms.

"It's clean through," Japan answered with dread, his voice back to the barely audible whisper. "As if one swing of the instrument cut through."

"You of all people should know it's impossible for someone with normal strength to cut through a body with a single chop, no matter how sharp the instrument," Germany told. "And there's only two nations I know with that kind of strength and one of them is dead."

"America…wouldn't…" Japan cried pitifully, his voice breaking.

"_I love you."_

_"I meant it and I won't take it back, because I was just being honest, but if you want...I'll apologize." _

All the evidence was here, piling up before him at an alarming rate. From the beginning America had been in the center of this whirlpool of events. His boss had been beating him. Against Germany's advice Japan had decided to kill Reynolds, then everyone who knew about it either died or disappeared. Japan felt weak and hunched over, his knees trembling as he forced himself to stand.

"Kiku, I'm so sorry," he heard Italy murmur above him, before being drawn into a warm embrace. Japan shivered. It was the first time Italy had ever used his human name. This was all too much. Japan struggled out of Italy's arms to the woods, bile rising in his throat as he stumbled into the trees. He faintly heard Germany and Italy follow him.

Once inside the safety of the trees, he fell to his knees, gasping as the panic attack rose.

_Splat._

His mouth fell open and a few strangled whimpers escaped the back of his throat when his hands became wet. Yet, it wasn't the icy wetness of the snow. It was…_warm._

Jumping to his feet abruptly, he reeled back and glanced down at his hands. They were covered with blood. Japan let out a piercing scream that startled a few roosting birds, and waved his arms wildly, the red liquid flying off and splattering the snow, trees, and bushes around him.

"Japan!" he heard Germany yell. Japan turned in the direction of the voice and felt his foot slip on a patch of ice. Thankfully, before his body slammed into the ground, Germany caught him.

"Oh my God," Italy whispered, his brown eyes locked with Japan's hands. They slowly and shakily moved to the original puddle. It was seeping from between the trunks of two bushes, and upon further inspection, a form was visible from between the gaps in the bare branches.

"It's coming from those bushes," Germany said, letting go of Japan and heading towards them. Italy followed and Japan merely watched as they parted the boughs.

"Oh my God," Italy gasped. "No, it…it can't be!"

Lying behind the bushes was a nation. Blue eyes stared sightlessly up at the canopy, blond hair dyed with patches of red and stuck to clammy white skin. Out of the nation's chest, a familiar giant battle axe's blade was sunken in deep. The white mouth was open and full of blood, some still trickling thinly down the country's chin and cheeks. The snow around the nation was crimson a slightly pink, his fingers curled and limp.

They found Norway.

And Denmark's axe.

Just then, another scream echoed behind them and Japan whirled around in time to see America standing just a few meters away, his eyes wide with terror as he stared down at Norway's body. Then, his fear only seemed to intensify as his eyes moved from the dead country to Japan, and he began to back away slowly, holding his hands up as if to ward off an attack.

America had followed him outside. How much had he heard about the suspicion Germany and Italy had that he might be a killer?

Japan looked from where America stood, down to his hands, still covered in blood.

"America," Japan began, taking a step towards him. America gave a fearful whimper and continued to stand down.

"P-Please d-don't hurt me!" he begged, slipping a bit as he made his way out of the line of trees encircling Norway's body.

"America, this isn't what it looks like!" Japan yelled. America flinched as if he had been struck and jumped horribly when his back came into contact with a tree trunk. Germany and Italy released the bushes and came to stand next to him.

"America, we…we just found him like this!" Italy cried, tears welling in his eyes as America continued to stare at them, trembling in utter fear.

"Oh you _just found_ him? Like Jeffery Dahmer _just_ _found_ that severed head in his refrigerator!?" America asked shrilly. Japan felt his heart break and took a step closer. It was like Reynolds all over again. America's eyes were crazed with terror as he gripped the tree trunk behind him, his boots still moving as if to push him back further, making a small pile of snow and dirt form. "Don't come near me! Get away! All three of you! Where are your other four buddies, huh?! Are they destroying Oslo as we speak?!"

"America, we didn't kill him!" Germany shouted. "If anything, _you're_ the killer!"

"_Me?!" _America yelled, placing a hand on his chest. "Fuck, you must be delusional along with batshit!"

"America, listen to me," Japan tried again, taking another step closer.

"Holy shit, you get the fuck away from me!" America belted out quickly. "Shit Japan, you're covered in blood!"

"I know but--"

"But what?" America interrupted. "But you want to lie to me again? Is that what this is about?"

"No I--"

"I'm not as fucking stupid as everyone thinks I am!" America shouted, tears beginning to fall. He angrily wiped them away. "But…But _fuck…_I-I…loved you!"

"America!" Japan cried, taking another step forward. America reeled back against the tree, his eyes wide as saucers.

"I'm warning you, get away from me," he whispered, his face full of agony. "Don't you dare come any closer or I'll…I…"

"Or you'll what?" Germany barked.

"America, calm down," Italy begged, taking a few hurried steps forward to stand next to Japan. This did nothing but cause America to panic, and with growing horror, Japan watched as he reached into the pocket of his bomber jacket and withdrew a pistol. Italy halted abruptly as America forced his scared expression into one of anger.

"Don't come any closer or I'll blow your fucking head off," he warned lowly, his tone flat and his eyes going empty. "You killed Matthew."

"We didn't kill anybody!" Germany yelled.

"America, listen to me, I'm not going to hurt you," Japan assured softly, ignoring the younger country's previous warning and walking forward. Something flashed in America's eyes and the hand holding the gun began to tremble as Japan came nearer. The stony face he put on for Italy was gone in an instant as all his attention went to Japan.

"You already did hurt me though," he whimpered. "Y-You lied and now you want to kill me. T-That's really why you killed Mr. Reynolds, isn't it? You never cared about me at all!"

"No, I don't want to kill you and I do care about you," Japan corrected, raising his hands, forgetting they were still covered in Norway's blood. "America, please put the gun down and I'll explain everything."

"Japan, he's a killer! Don't listen to him!" Germany demanded from behind him. Japan ignored him and continued his approach. The gun trembled more as America caulked it, pulling the hammer back, tears now freely running down his face. He grit his teeth as he shook violently.

"I'm not fucking one of you!" America shrieked hysterically. "You killed my brother! You killed the one person who actually gave a rat's ass about me!"

"America, we didn't!" Italy wailed, crying just as openly as America and running up to stand next to Japan. At Italy's rapid advance, America reeled back against the tree trunk in a panic, his eyes flashing with animalistic fear. Yet, all of this was over in a second as America braced himself for a fight, the gun now steady in his hand and his blue eyes icy and impenetrable.

"I said stay back," he warned quietly, the icy mist of his breath fogging his glasses.

"America, I'm not going to hurt you," Japan repeated, taking another few steps closer. "Please put the gun down. I know you don't want to hurt anyone. This is just a misunderstanding."

"You killed Norway!" America shouted, his voice trembling. The iron reserve he showed to Italy was again nothing now that his attention was back on Japan. Once more, his arm trembled. "You're covered in his blood! What's there to misunderstand?"

"I can explain, just please calm down," Japan murmured.

"Please," America begged in a whisper, the gun vibrating out of control. "Please just leave me alone. Please don't hurt me. Please don't come any closer."

"He's lying!" Germany declared from behind them. "He's lying Japan!"

"Fuck off!" America yelled before fixating his heartbroken eyes back on Japan. It was the most wounded look Japan had ever seen on another person's face. It was a look that said, _Haven't you hurt me enough? I'm barely able to keep going, isn't that enough for you? _It was this that let Japan know for certain America was never going to be the same. He'd lost his brother, his faith, and the person he loved in one foul swoop. With an unbearable pressure on his chest, Japan realized this too was his fault. He'd hurt America beyond repair.

"Alfred," he murmured softly, using his human name. "_Please._" America's expression crumpled and he lowered the gun in three robotic jerks. Then with a final hesitance, he pocketed it back in his bomber jacket.

"All seven of you can go to hell!" he spat tearfully before tearing away from the tree trunk and dashing deeper into the woods.

"Alfred, wait!" Japan called after him, following without thinking.

"Japan!" Italy cried.

"Japan, let him go!" Germany ordered.

Japan didn't hear them, wanting only to catch America and fix what he'd done.

_You're losing him Japan…_

* * *

If you all have any last minute theories, this is the time to post them. I know we'd both like to hear them :) Thank you! Blue's gonna show up next chappie and then you all can draw fanart of him dying! :D

Shout outs! (You all rock for being so patient with our rambling)

**furi, Celestial Sara** (Did we mention your long reviews give us joygasims? We love you!), **Verocat, Canadino, Victoria Wan, LupinandHarry, Kuragari Rya, AntonioAndRomano4Ever** (Yes, spread the horror that is our fanfic to your friends :D), **Kendall N.S., CanadianCookie, WhimsicalShmoo, Ichi Hime-Sama, YJ, avaspongeriffic, devsHaruhi-x, dragoneian, justinewhitlock4eva, My Precious Laith (Your belief in me did wonders!) bombayxprodigy, LightBender, , xYukii, GuiltlessLie, AikoujOi, HandInTheCookieJar, Darona, I Brake For Bishounen Boys, Black-Yami-Cat,** and...

**marmoki**


	28. Blind Chapter: Blue I

Japan ran as fast as he could, but no matter how fast he was, America was faster, driven on by adrenaline induced fear. Japan was scratched by branches and tripped up by roots and ice, but that did little to stop him.

"Alfred!" he cried desperately.

"Japan, stop!" he heard Germany yell. "He's not going to let you catch him!" Japan again ignored him and pressed on, no longer able to see America, not even a flash of the white '50' on the back of his jacket, but still determined to catch him. Finally, they came to a clearing and to Japan's surprise, a kind of cave. It was set against a large rise in the forest floor, lined with hard stones and a few scraggly bushes. Japan didn't stop to think about the possibility of America actually going inside and rushed into the oblong mouth.

"Germany-sama, Italy-kun, hurry!" he called over his shoulder as he made his way down the rocky ground, careful of ice.

"Japan, you're going too fast!" Italy panted.

"How do you even know where you're going?" Germany demanded a little ways behind him. "Italy, be careful, you might fall!" Japan paid no attention, his lungs burning as he pushed himself onward. He had to catch America, he had to explain that he had nothing to do with Norway's body.

"I have to find America!" Japan said, moving further down the dark tunnel, the air becoming icy and humid. There was a faint roar in the distance, like the sound of running water, and Japan assumed that there was an underground river somewhere deeper within.

Still, that didn't tell him where America was. Japan saw him run in here, but so far the tunnel was empty save for the towering stalactites and stalagmites. His brown eyes strained against the darkness, his hair dampening with the dripping moisture.

"Japan, if he's here, we'll never find him!" Germany yelled. There was a high-pitched yelp from Italy and a quick scuffling. "I got you," Germany grunted. "Japan, it's not safe to be wandering around in here, we could get hurt or lost."

"Or both!" Italy reminded. "Ve, it's too scary in here, and I think I just stepped in some guano!"

_"Wunderbar," _Germany growled lowly.

"We have to keep going! I can't let America think we're murderers!" Japan snapped, pressing onward despite the continued protests of his companions. After a silent moment, and another shriek from Italy, Japan finally lost what little patience he had. Italy was only slowing him down, and Germany's indistinct muttering was enough to drive him over the edge if it continued for much longer. "Look, if you don't wish to follow me, then don't! But I have to explain to America! I won't allow him to be afraid of me!"

Despite the darkness of the cave he was able to see the surprised and mildly hurt expression on Italy's face. Germany merely seemed annoyed, Japan's outburst doing nothing to worsen his already foul mood.

However, Italy alone was enough to make Japan guilty and he regretted losing his cool.

_"Gomenasai_, Italy-kun, it was wrong of me to snap at you," Japan apologized, not breaking his pace. Italy merely gave a smile.

"Ve, it's okay,_ Nihon!_ You love America! We'll find him and explain and it will all be okay!"

"_Ja_, but maybe we should wait until later. I doubt he'd come down here," Germany reminded.

"No, I saw him ," Japan insisted, refusing to slow down even a little as Italy fell again.

"Italy, I told you to be careful!" Germany yelled.

"Come on, I see a light up ahead!" Japan announced, picking up his pace even more and keeping his hand on the rough, moist walls of the tunnel for support. The roaring was increasing the deeper they went, meaning there was definitely an underground river of some sort.

"I see it too," Germany said, sounding slightly disbelieving. "Maybe we should go, this might be someone's house."

"Who would live in a cave?" Italy asked, his voice echoing slightly against the expanse of the tunnel. "It's so creepy and…and…drippy! Uh, I think _Doistu_ is right, we should definitely go _Nihon._ America is afraid of scary things so I don't think he's in here." Japan didn't answer and merely sped up, leaving his disgruntled friends behind.

He halted once he reached the light. What was revealed was an open expanse of the tunnel lined with dancing torches. However, this went largely unnoticed, for Japan's eyes widened in horror at what he truly saw. Unless it was a ghost it couldn't be...

"Canada-san!" he cried. Against the opposite wall were the bound figures of Finland, Vietnam, Denmark and Canada. Thick corded ropes imprisoned them against the cold wall of the cave, while silver duct tape was plastered over their mouths.

At the sound of Japan's call, Canada lifted his head weakly, blinked in utter shock, then immediately started struggling against his bonds, desperate whimpers coming from behind the patch of tape over his lips. His restlessness seemed to awaken the other countries from their own dreadful doze and they all began to move against their binds.

"Japan, slow--_Oh mein Gott_!" Germany exclaimed once he and Italy emerged from the dark tunnel and into the room.

"All the missing nations!" Italy exclaimed, sounding half excited and half terrified. "What are they all doing here?" Without wasting another moment, Japan hurried to Canada's slumped form and took the other nation's face between his hands.

"Canada-san, hold on," Japan ordered. He looked at the other three nations: Vietnam giving him a look that clearly said, '_Get on with it!'_ and Denmark giving him more of the same. He purposely avoided Finland's eyes, instead focusing once again on Canada.

"Come on, Germany, let's help!" Italy said, rushing forward and lowering Vietnam to the ground from where she hung suspended against the wall.

"I'm going to pull it off now," Japan warned, lifting the side of the piece of tape. Canada's eyes were full of tears and his cheeks were dirtied. His blond hair was damp and clung to his skin and Japan felt him tense as the duct tape was ripped from his mouth. There was harsh shredding sound and Canada gave a cry as his mouth was freed. "Canada-san, who's keeping you here?" Canada coughed a little, shaking his head.

"This knot is skillfully tied," Germany announced as he struggled with Vietnam's binding. Denmark gave an annoyed growl, obviously a little less than thrilled he was not freed first.

"Japan, how did you find me?" Canada asked, his voice raspy, as if he'd been screaming.

"I was chasing your brother," Japan answered, tugging at the hard knot in the ropes but to little avail. Suddenly, Canada let out an echoing shriek and threw himself back against the wall, causing the tips of Japan's fingers to burn from the harsh fibers of the rope. Japan snapped his head up in time to see Canada's face twisted in terror and three masked figures descend upon Germany and Italy.

"KIKU, RUN!" Canada screamed. The tears which had been welling in his blue eyes were now freely spilling down his cheeks. "NO! DON'T KILL ANYMORE PEOPLE! PLEASE!" However, before Japan could turn to see who Canada was screaming at, he felt a hand with a dripping cloth clamp over his mouth and nose. The back of his head slammed into someone's hard chest, and as he took an involuntary breath, his lungs filled with contaminated air.

Chloroform.

How utterly ironic.

He felt his eyes droop.

Canada's screams began to fade into the background, the beating of his own heart becoming the primary noise.

_Thump, thump, thump_.

Germany and Italy were shoved against the wall, mouths and hands gagged and bound.

_Thump, thump, thump_.

Canada's crying face was becoming blurry and unclear.

_Thump, thump, thump_.

Japan faded out.

* * *

'_Um…Japan…I…I think that something's wrong with Alfred.'  
_

_'You're too cute, Japan.'_

_'__I…uh…I just don't think that he's acting a lot like…himself. I mean, he acts all…normal…on the surface, but I think that there's something he's keeping back....'  
_

_'Canada's the scarier one, whereas I'm the innocent, fun-loving one who gets his heart broken easily.'  
_

_'__...his heart broken easily.'  
_

_'...heart broken easily.'  
_

_'I just like you and want to stay with you for as long as possible.'_

_'...heart broken easily.'  
_

_'I love you, Kiku!'  
_

_'...__broken easily.'  
_

_'...his eyes were sharp, a spark of something deadly within the apparent awe.'  
_

_'It was brief, so much so it might have been a trick of the light, but Japan thought for sure he saw America's face darken, almost dangerously.'_

_'Japan felt an uncomfortable twinge of anxiety when something dark flickered in America's eyes, and he feared he had upset him._

_'...__broken easily.'_

'_I'm the innocent, fun-loving one who gets his heart broken easily.'_

* * *

He awoke slowly, the world swimming unsteadily back into place. He felt a hand stroking his cheek softly and tenderly. It felt so familiar. He grunted, trying to move. His right arm was bound to something stiff, but he was able to turn his head. He opened his eyes slowly, even the gloomy light from the torches too much at first.

So he was still in the cave. That wasn't good, but there wasn't much he could do at the moment other than to force his body awake. He closed his eyes again and groaned, realizing that he was not laying down, but sitting.

The gentle hand continued to brush his cheek and run its fingers through the longer parts of his hair, always tender, very comforting, but also familiar. Japan groaned again and lifted his head, his neck sore from the awkward sitting position. His right arm was immobile, a fact he confirmed when he tried to bring it up to rub his temples.

"Glad to see your waking up, sleepyhead," a warm voice, as familiar as the stroking hand, chuckled. At the sound of it, Japan jolted, causing the comforting strokes to stop.

"A-America!" he exclaimed. Sure enough, sitting across from him was America in the flesh, his lips curled into a light smile and his blue eyes shining from behind his glasses. "America, you shouldn't be here! It's dangerous, the killers are here!" America didn't seem fazed and made no move to flee as Japan had hoped.

"What are you waiting for? Run! Don't worry about me!" America still didn't move, smile bright as he calmly stood up. Japan watched, heart beating rapidly when America headed towards the back wall, the new additions of Italy and Germany wriggling madly like flies trapped in a spider web. Japan instantly fought a stab of guilt. He shouldn't have brought them down here; he shouldn't have insisted they keep going.

However, America paid no attention to them and knelt before Canada, who was still crouching fearfully on the ground. He lowered himself further at his older brother's advance and gave a muffled whimper as America reached out. The duct tape was back over his mouth and he flinched as America's hand rested on his cheek. Ignoring Canada's obvious fear and discomfort, America leaned forward and began to whisper something in his younger brother's ear. Canada nodded rapidly as tears poured down his face.

Japan glanced down and saw that his imprisoned arm was bound to a wooden table, which his head had been resting on when he woke up. Moving down the table, he saw a strange device positioned near his fingers. Suddenly feeling ill, he took the opportunity to instead look around the room briefly.

Unsurprisingly, Japan found the other masked killers watching the entire scene, but they were silent and still, almost like statues. Automatically his eyes found the red killer, who was merely watching him with the most noticeable detachment. He might never have noticed them if he hadn't looked, but what happened next made his gut clench painfully. He counted.

There were six of them.

Iceland said that there were seven.

The seventh killer was missing.

Unless….

Japan looked at America, then at Canada's terrified face and felt his eyes burn.

No.

Nothing could be that cruel.

America couldn't be capable of the monstrosities committed by these killers.

America ripped the tape off of Canada's mouth, earning another scream. An irritated red rectangle was left on the younger twin's skin as the tape was removed. He coughed, sobbing lightly and nodding in agreement to something before he too turned his face and whispered something in America's ear. His hair shielded his eyes from view, and upon closer inspection, Japan noticed his lips were twitching, as if Canada were trying to hold back some sort of spasm. After a few moments, the exchange ended and America pulled away with a final, tender touch to his younger brother's down-turned face.

"Go ahead, Mattie, tell Japan," he prompted lazily, standing up again and facing the Asian nation. Canada nodded, tears still falling and teeth grit against the sobs. He took a deep breath and looked up, blue eyes desperate.

"J-Japan, A-America is…" he lowered his head and let out another sob. Then he lifted it again. "America is a killer! He killed Norway, Greece, his own states and Cuba! He was the one that was stalking me! H-He was t-targeting you from the beginning! H-He…" Canada trailed off and let out another choked sob before lifting his head again. "He's the blue masked killer! America is Blue!"

_'I..I think there's something wrong with Alfred.'_

Even though Japan had guessed it, it still swept a surge of pain and denial into his heart. Feeling his eyes well up, he looked away hurriedly, feeling the warm wetness on his cheeks. He lifted his free left hand and covered his mouth, trembling involuntarily.

Every kiss, every touch, and every significant moment flashed through his mind: America's kindly presence when he first visited China, the way he forced himself to watch scary movies in attempts to be brave, and how he smiled so brilliantly. It couldn't be true. Canada had to be lying. Yet the way the younger nation quaked and cried was enough to let Japan know he was genuine. America was a killer. How could he have not seen it?

"Yup! That's me! Killer extraordinaire!" America laughed. Japan stared at him in disbelief, unashamed of crying, only wanting to know why. America tilted his head, a sly half-smile gracing his lips as he returned to Japan.

"Now don't look at me like that, I thought it was pretty obvious from the beginning. I mean, why do you think Reynolds hit me?" Japan couldn't speak, his mind shrouded in a mist of denial, praying that this was merely a nightmare and that he'd wake up with America snoozing peacefully against his side. America's smile faded and he gave a pout. "Well, if you're not going to talk, this isn't going to be much fun at all." Japan swallowed, gaze flickering to the other trapped nations before coming back to rest on America's face.

"W-Why?" was all he managed to rasp.

"Well, you don't think Russia and I were best friends for no reason, right?" America shrugged.

"Y-You mean…" America leaned forward, his expression no longer controlled, but instead morphing into something horrifying, revealing how unhinged he truly was. The light from the torches made threatening shadows dance across his face, and Japan was reminded of Finland, who he still refused to look at.

"Remember McCarthyism?"

Japan nodded slowly. It had been during the Cold War, where America's paranoia over communism had been at an all time high. Innocent people were accused of being communist and harassed, while America simply watched, scaring his own people. Japan remembered it all as if it were yesterday and all of America's paranoid and violent tendencies, particularly against Russia.

"I remember," Japan croaked. America gave a hum of approval.

"Ever since then I have urges to hurt people who hurt me. I-I try to stop them, I really do! I managed to do so for a long time too! But, Russia and I suffer from the same complex. It comes from being the two top countries of the world. Eventually the line between wrong and right becomes blurred and you lose what morality you had to start with. I started out wanting liberty and justice for all, but now…" America averted his gaze, "now I want it all to just stop." America's eyes narrowed, and his voice raised in level. "I want to kill all the little shit ungrateful countries that have the audacity to hate me no matter what! I stay out of things, they hate me, I try to help, they hate me! Well, I figure I might as well give them a fucking legitimate reason to hate me!"

"Do you even know what you're saying?" Japan asked, voice cracking. His chest felt as if it were being crushed. "Can you even hear yourself right now?" This person wasn't America. He may have America's face and America's voice, but Japan's America wasn't this ignorant, he didn't have such a scary look about him.  
This was My Lai America. This was the America who ran down a young mother and child then slaughtered them like pigs. This was the America fueled by hate and darkness, not the person Japan had care so deeply about.

"I hear myself perfectly," America snarled, eyebrows knitting together in a frown. "Don't look so surprised, Japan, you tried to do the same thing quite a few times, to your own family no less."

"That was-"

"A mistake? It didn't seem like a mistake to me. You should have heard how China cried."

"Stop it."

"How Korea sobbed about how his big brother wouldn't do such a thing to his China-hyung."

_"Come on, Nihon! Let's get our futures told! I heard this guy is amazing!"_

_"Korea-kun, you know you can't believe what an old man says." _

"America. Please. Don't."

_"Hello my children, who's fortune am I reading today?"_

_"Oh, mine! Mine!" _

"Your family cried for you a lot during the war."

_"Let's see. Oh dear. Here, take your coin back little one."  
_

_"Huh, why?"  
_

_"Just go about your ways, I have other business to attend to." _

_"Hm, fine!" Korea pouted and turned away. "Nihon, let's go. We're late for tea~da ze!" Japan began to follow his speedy younger brother, but felt the old fortuneteller's single eye upon him, burning a hole in the back of his head. Japan turned, surely enough, finding that lonely glass eye glaring at him out through wrinkled skin. Japan met the old man's stare with his own blank one, showing nothing of the inner fear and slight discomfort he felt at the nearly **accusing** glassiness of the fortuneteller's eye.  
_

_From somewhere nearby a rooster crowed three times. _

"What's wrong with you?"

"You never even said you were sorry to China."

_"KIKU STOP IT!" _

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Did you know after Pearl Harbor, men were still trapped in the battle ships? Water was filling them and they were all locked in, unable to escape. Did you know that when I went out there, to see what you did to me, I could hear them tapping from the inside the ships?"

Japan thought he was going to be sick. Was that really what this was all about? Had America really not forgiven him?

"They didn't know you were coming." America lowered his gaze until his hair blocked his eyes. "Lately I've been hearing them again. Tapping. Tapping. I can hear them drowning still. I remember that day I was clawing at the metal. I was clawing at it trying to get them out. I clawed until my fingernails were nothing but bloody stumps." Japan instantly recalled clawing for Korea, and stared at his wrapped fingertips. America lifted his eyes again, and they were narrowed and positively frightening. "I didn't even get one person out."

"I..."

"You don't have anything to say to that do you?" Japan felt as if something had stabbed him in the heart.

"You bombed me," was the only response he could think of. America stared at him for a moment, before completely changing the subject.

"You know, China never really forgave you, but he seemed to take my advice better than you did."

_"Give him the benefit of the doubt at least for now, because he still cares about you…"  
_

_"Even though I never said I was sorry China still…he still…" _

Japan was silent after this, his mouth opening and closing uselessly. China gave him the benefit of the doubt. America's mouth twisted into a sick grin.

"That's why I killed that ungrateful prick Cuba. He hated me, even after I helped him win his independence from that pussy Spain and kept my word in not annexing him. The bastard had the gall to go communist under a fucking drug lord no less!"

"America," Japan whispered in shock. "America, that's…" Suddenly, America slammed his hands on the table, narrowly missing Japan's tied arm. His grin soured and his eyes grew huge. Dark circles created by the shadows of the torches hung under them, making America's face appear almost skeletal.

"UNFORGIVABLE!" He shrieked. The outburst rang throughout the tunnel. "Cuba tried to take Canada from me! No one fucking touches my brother! No one! Canada is mine, my twin and anyone who wants to take that from me will be fucking nuked off the face of this planet!" America was working himself into a frenzy, his already unhinged expression turning even more violent. However, when he spoke again, his voice was restrained and quiet.

"And Russia….Russia I thought would understand. He knew me better than anyone. He knew what it felt like," America paused momentarily to look down at the palms of his hands before raising his crazed eyes to look at Japan again. "He knew what it was like to want to hurt people who hurt you. I thought he might even join us, but no. Russia apparently found morals when I wasn't looking and threatened to tell all the other nations."

"That's where I came in," the green masked killer chimed in.

"Exactly," America confirmed. "Russia had to be silenced." America turned away from Japan and walked back to the terrified Canada. Kneeling down, he wrapped his arms around his brother's shoulders and drew him to his chest in a protective embrace. Canada gave a fearful whine and bit his trembling lower lip. America's voice came out soft as he spoke, and he began to run his fingers through his brother's hair.

"Canada was the only one who loved me even when I didn't love myself. We're twins, we do things together. He may not have always agreed with me, but he loved me." America let his cheek rest on top of Canada's head, and he closed his eyes, his expression almost peaceful and innocent, a stark contrast to his brother's terror-stricken and grime coated one. "You still love me, don't you?" America asked, using his thumb to wipe away Canada's tears.

"Y-Yes," Canada whimpered. "I-I love you v-very much, Alfred."

"Good, because if you didn't love me, there'd be no point in keeping any of these nations, including you, alive." America pulled away and kissed his brother's forehead tenderly. Then he stood, making his way back to Japan, who was now starting to emerge out of the haze of denial into the ever-painful sting of reality.

"How?" was the second unformed question Japan was able to voice.

"Well, first I had to get rid of Reynolds. That bastard was in the way from the beginning, sitting too high up on his pedestal to come down and have a chat with the rest of humanity. That's where you came in. I simply played the innocent victim card, and you were ready to save me," America explained.

"So, you used me," Japan replied, reaching up and clutching his pained chest. "You were using me from the beginning."

"Yes," America confirmed. "My plan was simple. I killed all my states, save for a few the other Lovelies were so kind in taking care of for me."

"You're welcome!" the yellow masked killer voiced.

"I started with the northern ones, so you'd automatically suspect Canada. In fact, all evidence was meant to point directly to him. That way, when you convinced the other nations Canada was a killer, he'd have no choice but to join us. However, as always, Mr. Reynolds got in the way. He found out I was the one killing my own states and he started beating me up to keep me in line." America's tone became disgusted. "I had to get rid of him. The bruise he gave me on my cheek was perfect, because I knew I'd be automatically suspected of Switzerland's murder.

"That meant one of you would want to sneak around and try to gain evidence. That was when I walked out of the shower. I meant for you to see those wounds so you'd take pity and eventually action, but you were taking longer than I expected so I had to help you along."

"The breakdown at the World Meeting," Japan gasped, realization dawning on him.

"Bravo! I knew you were smart, Japan!" America exclaimed, giving a thumbs up and a mockery of his heroic grin. "So I gave you a little push in the direction I wanted you to go. Once you killed Reynolds, I cleaned up the mess."

"What do you mean?" Japan asked.

"Well, simple. I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but when you murder someone, generally you don't want any witnesses. So I took Finland and handed him off to White, then made my way to kill Hawaii before returning to my house, where Purple took care of Delaware." Japan felt bile rise in his throat. He recalled Reynolds' behavior shortly before he was killed. He had been talking about his wife and how he loved her. He was practically begging Japan to stop him.

"I'm still disappointed I had to get rid of Finland for you. I captured him as soon as you left the shipyard, but you obviously already knew that. Then," America paused again, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Then I thought I could trust my own brother and told him everything." America whirled around and stalked back over to Canada. He lifted his boot and kicked his younger brother in the chest, pinning him against the wall. Thankfully the ropes provided some protection for the younger nation's ribs, but Canada still let out a cry when the back of his head slammed against the wall of the cave.

"A-America, please don't hurt Canada-san," Japan begged. The pressure from America's leg only seemed to increase. "America! Please stop hurting him!"

"He decided it was a good idea to admit everything to Cuba! That ungrateful bastard who wanted me dead! So I had to kill him! I killed him and then I brought Canada here after I had both of our capitals destroyed. Canada lied to me! He said that I could trust him with whatever it was I had to tell him and I believed him! I thought I could trust him! He promised me he'd keep our secret! Kiku, and if there's one thing that's unforgivable, it's lying!"

"Please…stop hurting him," Japan whispered, trying to restrain his tears. America ignored him, icy blue eyes fixated on Canada's agonized face. Japan knew a normal human's ribcage would have been sawdust by now.

"Everyone who is here now all played a part in my plan. Denmark too. He was to be framed along with Canada. I had Norway killed with his axe, that way he'd automatically be suspected. I planned on 'capturing' him myself and taking him into custody, that way all suspicion would be shifted away from me. Think about it, everyone who knew you killed Reynolds disappears or is murdered. Automatically I'm a suspect whether you're in love with me or not. Denmark and Canada were my scapegoats. I was going to bring Denmark to justice and be revered as a hero, while Canada was going to be the one who was targeting me by killing all my states."

"So you were going to frame Denmark and Canada for your crimes," Japan figured miserably.

"Ten points to you!" the killer in the purple mask cried out.

"Black had Iceland tortured and I had him targeted so that Denmark would cooperate in testifying against himself. Canada would be missing and presumed on the run and I would be innocent and completely free of charges. Then I'd annex Canada and move on to murder Mexico. I wasn't planning on killing Cuba, but my idiot of a brother made that imperative!" Canada gave a strangled grunt as America now undeniably increased the pressure.

"B…Bro…ther," he breathed out.

"America, stop it!" Japan finally yelled. "Stop it! Please, leave Canada-san alone!" He paused and let out a shaky breath. "Please, don't hurt him anymore. Please."

"Is that it then?" America asked softly. He lowered his foot and Canada fell onto his side, coughing and gasping. Japan stared at America's back for a moment, confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's always about everyone else, isn't it, Kiku?" America turned then, and Japan saw that he was crying, a bitter smile on his face. "I tried to stop, you know?" America's smile faded and his mouth quivered, eyes losing their frightening sheen of insanity. Japan felt his own tears slow and his heart ache with longing as he realized he was looking at his America again, not the monster who was here previously. "I would have stopped too."

"W-What?"

"I-I was going to stop!" America cried. "I was trying so hard to stop myself!" Japan simply watched, unable to react as America came back to him brokenly. It took all he had not to flinch when the other nation's hands rested on either side of his face. "I love you so much. That wasn't a lie, Kiku. I really, really fell in love with you. But…But you screwed everything up!" America yelled, tears still flowing. "Y-You lied to me about Greece! You lied right to my face, even when I pretended to be Canada over the phone!"

_"I hope you find it in yourself to apologize."_ Greece's last words echoed in his mind. Japan had been so out of it, barely paying attention, but he remembered pondering what Greece meant, his mind automatically wandering to China.

However, Greece hadn't been talking about China. No, he had been talking about _America._

"I just wanted to hear you say that you loved me!" America wailed, now completely vulnerable, as if a single jab would cause him to shatter. "I-I wanted to hear you say it to my face and to mean it so I wouldn't have to reassure myself you still weren't in love with Greece!"

"I…I didn't know," Japan breathed out. He let himself lean across the table and off of his stool until their foreheads touched, tears mingling together. Japan's lips brushed against America's wet cheeks. He let his free hand reach up and rest over one of America's. "I didn't know. Oh, Alfred. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted you to figure it out. I wanted you to care enough to see what I was feeling," America sniffed. "You never did though…" At this, the blue of America's eyes darkened once more, and the insanity which had overtaken him earlier returned. "That's why you have to learn." America pulled away and took a few steps back. "Do you know what that device is, Kiku?" He gestured to the strange mechanism.

Japan felt the loss of contact like a razor blade; sharp and jagged. For a brief moment he had had his America. He saw it in the other nation's eyes. America, the real, good, kind-hearted America was still in there.

Yet, the device came to mind and Japan studied it briefly. It consisted of two metal boards with jagged teeth. A metal screw held the two pieces together, suspended above each other. Japan guessed the function with no trouble. The device was a Spanish thumbscrew.

America wanted him to break his fingers.

Japan recalled the heretic's fork around Romano's neck and shuddered involuntarily. The killers obviously accredited a lot of their ideas to the Spanish Inquisition. He was to twist the handle, thus bringing the two boards together on his fingers, eventually crushing them. The thought caused him to pale and he jerked his gaze away, trying to filter away the gruesome images.

"America, you can't be serious!" Japan exclaimed. "You can't expect me to break my fingers!" America raised an eyebrow, obviously a bit caught off guard that Japan had figured out the device's purpose.

"Wow, you _are_ smart, but yes. I want you to break your fingers. One for each nation in this room including yourself," America explained. Japan looked down at his tied arm, thoughts whirling through his mind like a tornado. He suddenly felt nauseous, the blood draining from his face and pooling in his stomach to mingle with the churning bile.

"Why?" he asked again, looking desperately into the other nation's eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of his America, but finding nothing but darkness.

"I told you I was the one who got his heart broken easily," America reminded. "So, who will you save first?"

"America, this is wrong!" Japan cried.

"I know!" America suddenly chirped. Vietnam, who was still on the ground from where Germany and Italy had lowered her from the wall, was suddenly yanked up by her hair onto her knees. She let out a feral growl, although didn't struggle. "I'll just kill this bitch sister of yours then, or…" America trailed off, his eyes suddenly growing wide as he dragged Vietnam to where Italy hung. There, he lifted her using one hand and forced the side of her head against Italy's. Then, reaching into the folds of his bomber jacket, withdrew a pistol.

"Maybe I should save time and kill both her and the little Sherlock Holmes here just to conserve ammunition!" America let out a wild laugh, before removing the safety lock and jamming the barrel hard against Vietnam's temple. "If I pull the trigger, the bullet will go straight through both of their skulls!" America started giggling, his lips quivering into an insane grin and eyes large with sick delight. "Think of it, if I pull this trigger, Italy's brains will splatter all over the side of Germany's face!" America threw his head back a cackled. "I could do that all right now."

"America…" Japan breathed, the nausea causing his knees to quake. How could he say something like that and laugh? Italy's eyes were wide and on the verge of panic, while Germany's remaining one was dancing with terror and rage.

"So what's it going to be, darlin', your fingers-" his eyes became hooded and his smile spread "-or their lives?" America's fingers tangled deeper into Vietnam's hair and instead of a growl, she let out a muffled shriek.

Japan flinched and looked at all of their terrified faces, even Finland, who was silently weeping. He glanced down at his arm again and gave a halfhearted tug on the bindings. This wasn't fair. America was supposed to be innocent, but he had been manipulating Japan the entire time. Japan felt his eyes burn all over again as Vietnam tried to jerk her head out of America's relentless hold. Denmark looked positively enraged, his eyes blazing much like Germany's, who was fighting his bindings to get closer to Italy.

Japan studied America, the shadowed blackness of his eyes and his finger, tense on the trigger of the pistol. All the nations against the wall didn't deserve to be there. They were innocent and had millions of their own people to care for. None of this was fair.

Still, Japan found himself not angry at America, but at himself. All America needed to hear was that Japan loved him, and the smaller nation failed at that. Japan remembered it all, America's insecurity about Greece which he had brushed off, and the small, pleading 'I love you' whispered as Washington was damaged and Ottawa destroyed. That had been Japan's last chance to pull America out of this, to stop him from killing, yet he had frozen up.

He had hurt America terribly, both by being distant and lying, and this was the result. If anything, Japan was the one holding Vietnam and Italy's heads together, ready to blow their brains out. They were all there because of him and his own discomfort in sharing his emotions.

This was all his fault, and he had to make things right. He had endangered every nation in the room besides the killers, and now he had to save them, no matter how much pain he had to endure.

"Okay," he agreed, voice quivering. "Okay, I'll do it. I'll brake my fingers. Just promise me you'll let them go. You can do anything you want to me, just let everyone else go free." America smirked cruelly at this.

"How noble. Though I'd expect nothing less from you." He released Vietnam's hair and she tumbled to the ground, landing flat on her face next to Canada. "We have a deal. Break a finger for every nation you wish to save including yourself. Canada is automatically safe so you don't have to worry about him. Now, who's first?"

Japan took a deep breath in attempts to calm himself. He studied all the nations, there were five, and including himself, six. So he needed to break his entire hand, and one more to save himself.

Italy, Germany, Denmark, Vietnam, and Finland.

Their lives were in his hands. He looked at Vietnam, trying to find reassurance, and he was met with iron determination. Even though she was wet, beaten, and covered in grime, his sister still reminded him of the savage warrior Japan knew she was. Her eyes met with his, and he read them perfectly,

_Save me first and you're dead_. He managed a weak and apologetic smile, and she gave a curt nod as a reply.

"You know, Italy's not looking too good, Japan. You might want to think fast," America pointed out. Japan turned his attention to Italy, who did indeed look pale and sickly. His eyes had closed, dark rings hanging underneath them. Japan hadn't noticed, but Italy's condition had been deteriorating ever since Romano's death. Japan's eyes shifted to Germany, who was staring intently, almost pleading.

"Alright," Japan decided, his voice raspy. He cleared his throat and began again. "Italy-kun is first." There was an exasperated groan from Denmark, but Japan ignored him, turning to the Spanish thumbscrew. His heart was pounding in his ears and his face flushed with heat and sweat. His chest tensed with anxiety as he placed his pinky finger between the boards.

He took another shaky breath, and felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead. Biting his lower lip, he slowly reached his hand forward and gripped the metal handle above the top board. The chill of the rusty metal bit hungrily into Japan's palm as he began to twist the handle. Japan tried to calm himself, readying his body for the pain. He endured worse than this. Nagasaki and Hiroshima had left all of his back burnt to a crisp, a few broken fingers should be smooth sailing.

The pressure increased on his pinky the more he turned the handle, but he pressed on. He had to be strong.

This was his own fault for being ignorant to America's pain along with being selfish and leading Germany and Italy into danger. His bones ached as he gave another firm twist, and he clenched his jaw. The boards were digging deeper into his flesh, but he continued, the pain now searing as his finger begged for mercy. The roaring of the underground river made him wish he were deaf as it pounded and scraped against his eardrums.

"Come on now darlin' you're almost there," America's voice said from somewhere to his right. At least it was better than the river. Japan closed his eyes against the pain and his surroundings. He knew if he saw America, his mental strength would cease to exist and he'd break down, undoubtedly and humiliatingly weeping.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, but he had yet to actually wail, and he'd die before he'd allow himself to sink so low. Japan tensed as he realized one more twist of the handle would undoubtedly break his pinky. The pain was shooting up his arm and his finger throbbed, begging for release. Japan froze.

His hand refused to twist the handle the final time, the agony and pressure already too great. He didn't dare open his eyes. He knew if he actually witnessed his own finger smashed against two boards he'd never be able to continue. Besides, after Italy, there was still Germany, Vietnam, Denmark and Finland to save, but even with the blackness of his eyelids the only thing visible, Japan's instincts refused to allow him the final twist. His jaw ached from how hard he was clenching it and he felt his breathing accelerate as anxiety built.

He couldn't do this. He hadn't even broken one yet and the pain was just far too much. He started to shake his head, trying to gather himself. But the river. That damn river was making it too hard. It's was like a monster, roaring incessantly somewhere deep within the cave's bowels. It made him angry, scared, and just plain tired.

Suddenly, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him, warm and secure. Japan realized he was trembling, but did little to stop himself as he felt another's head rest on his shoulder, warm breath wafting across his cheek.

"I'll help you with this one," America whispered softly. Japan felt the larger nation's hand rest over his own and clench the handle of the thumbscrew. Even though America was the one who instigated all of this, having him close was still comforting. Still, there was something completely different about the way America felt now. It was an indescribable feeling, but something about him was somehow wrong.

"Alfred," Japan managed to say, before the other nation twisted the handle with a determined jerk. There was a dull snap, and the already unbearable pain exploded with enraged abandon. Japan couldn't help himself and screamed. His voice echoed loudly through the expanse of the tunnel, before being lost to the sounds of the river.

When his screams finally died into gasping breaths, he felt America's arms loosen from around him.

"Italy is now safe. Germany, Denmark, Vietnam, yourself, and Finland are left." Japan cautiously opened one eye and nearly threw up. His pinky, or rather what used to be his pinky, was nothing more than a red swollen mess. He twisted the handle the opposite way, wheezing as the pressure eased and his pinky was released. Japan managed to hold his bile down, although moving his finger was out of the question. His fingernail was split and purple, blood dribbling from underneath it.

It involuntarily twitched, the muscles spasming around the cracked joint. He still had five more to go, but just this one hurt. Oh, the radiation burns on his back had been worse--he'd take this to that any day, but it was still painful beyond anything he could inflict upon himself. He opened his eyes and looked at the wall of trapped nations. He gaze locked with Germany.

"So who's next, darlin'?" America asked. Japan tried to calm his racing heart, and ignored his crushed pinky. His mindset from the bombings returned, and he separated himself from his body. He had to focus. Germany was next. After all, he wouldn't have been here at all had Japan chased after America alone.

"G-Germany-sama," he managed to breathe out through his teeth. There was another very audible groan from Denmark, which everyone ignored. Germany's face became shocked and he shook his head, as if begging Japan to reconsider.

"Have at it then," America said simply. He returned to Japan's side momentarily and leaned forward. "I can't save you this time, Kiku," he whispered. Japan didn't respond, only shifted his hand until his bleeding finger was out from between the boards. He moved onto his ring finger, his entire body quaking and eyes watering.

He twisted the handle again, separating himself from the torture by immersing himself in memories. As the boards came together on his second finger, he thought about his family. He remembered China patiently teaching him how to write and holding him on his lap. Japan thought of all the times he playfully chased Korea around the bamboo forests. He remembered when China brought Hong Kong and Taiwan home.

The boards were steadily getting closer together, but Japan was miles away. Reminiscing made him come to terms with how much he missed his family. He wished he could go back and change everything. He wanted to be small again, focusing on his lessons with China, his stupid squabbles with Korea, making tea with Taiwan, roughhousing with Vietnam, and simply having a thoughtful conversation with Hong Kong.

If only he hadn't taken them for granted. If only he realized how precious his brothers and sisters were when they were all still together. The familiar throb was forcing its way up his arm again as the boards were pressed tighter. Japan kept his eyes closed, his family the only thing on his mind.

He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to apologize for all the horrible things he had done to both Korea and China. He hurt them all.

He thought about his relationship with Greece, knowing that it too was precious to him. Japan had been deeply in love with Greece at one point. Yet, it had been something he only recently admitted to himself.

The night Russia was put into a coma he lied when he told Korea he never cared for someone in such a way before. Japan had never been one to share his emotions, and Greece never expected him too. It was one of the many things about him that made Japan want to be with him. Greece was the calming force during a period of Japan's long life that was anything but, and Japan had been head over heels for him without knowing it. He had been the one person who made Japan relax, even if it was only for a moment, and take life in stride.

It had been Greece who comforted him when he realized what he had done to China in Nanjing. Greece had been there to care for him and let Japan know that letting someone in even just a little didn't mean he was weak. Yes, even now after his death, Greece was still a precious person, and Japan didn't regret one moment of their relationship.

The boards were bearing down harder now, his finger throbbing and the joint groaning. Japan didn't stop twisting the handle.

Then there was America, who was the exact opposite of Greece. Where previously, it had been Greece who took care of Japan, now Japan found himself committed to someone who needed him. America was younger, more energetic, and very emotional. Whereas Greece understood Japan's distance as a way for him to uphold personal honor, America had taken it as Japan not caring.

As a result, he hurt America worst of all and had been completely oblivious to it.

There was another crunch and Japan screamed again as pain ripped him out of his thoughts and shoved him back into the cave. He let out a gasping breath, tears still running thickly down his cheeks. The torment was almost too much and Japan felt his head grow light. Breathing became difficult and his knees shook horribly, but he managed to stay on his feet.

"Germany is now safe," America announced. "Congratulations, you just saved Berlin. Denmark, Vietnam, and Finland are left. Who will you save next?" Japan hurriedly twisted the long handle and the boards were pulled apart. His ring finger now matched his pinky: purple, swollen and bleeding. Once the top board was removed completely, Japan clenched his teeth again as he forced it to move from out between them. His lungs burned with his rapid intake of musty cave air.

Even now, he loved America. He'd taken on the responsibility of protecting him the moment he saw the effects of the Reynolds' beatings. Though there were no regrets with Greece, America, who was different from Japan's former lover entirely, was riddled with them. Japan had his chance to save him. All he had to do was be truthful and tell America he loved him. Never before had he been so angry with himself.

He imagined it briefly, simply taking one of the many opportunities to tell America the truth. He imagined holding him close in the hospital and whispering it. If only he had done that, if only he hadn't been such a coward.

"Pick a nation, Japan, the clock is ticking." America sounded agitated, but Japan wasn't perturbed. Vietnam was definitely out. She had her own personal honor to uphold which he refused to take from her, and Finland…Japan hadn't forgotten his frightening behavior the night he murdered Reynolds. So that left Denmark.

"Denmark," he said. Denmark let out a strange 'Woo Hoo' sound. He was once again ignored as Japan began to twist the handle again, putting his middle finger on the bottom board. His vision was slightly blurry as he cracked one eye open to stare at the trapped nations. Only three more to go. He could do it, even if he couldn't save himself at least they'd live. However, he also had his people to think of.

Suddenly, a new pain unlike any he had ever felt before erupted throughout his entire body, not just in his broken fingers. It caused his knees to buckle, and he opened his mouth to let out a shriek of pure agony. His throat felt raw as he fell to his knees, arm bent awkwardly from where it was tied against the table. He felt as if his skin were burning all over again, much like it had during World War II, but this was worse.

It seemed as if his head was caving in on itself, sirens and screams roaring in his ears, drowning out the river. He convulsed involuntarily, held up only by his arm. Japan's screams didn't cease as the burning agony continued, and all he wanted was to crawl out of his body. Another lash of fiery pain whipped across the scars on his back and he arched away from it, his head jerking up to look at the dripping stalactites.

"Oh, I forgot to mention, Tokyo is currently being bombed and neutralized. You're boss has already been assassinated and your government officials picked off. Can't have you immortal now can we?" America asked. Japan's distressed screeches faded back into laborious gasps, and he brought his gaze back down from the ceiling to look at America, to _really_ look at him. He watched as the sadistic country marched down the line of imprisoned nations, whistling a tune Japan recognized as, 'The Star Spangled Banner'.

"Y...You're not, America," he panted. Immediately the whistling cut off and America halted in his tracks. He stared at Japan momentarily, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Really? Well, if you don't think I'm America, who am I?" Japan didn't have an answer for this. This was clearly America, he had the same face, the same color hair, everything was exactly the same. Japan's eyes fell to America's mouth, now twisted into a deranged scowl. It was hard to imagine he had kissed those same lips not too long ago, that the same fingers now gripping a gun had been intertwined with his own, running through his hair and touching him so lovingly.

"H…H….How can you be so evil?" he managed to pant out past the torture. America's eyes narrowed and he gave another cruel, mocking grin before shrugging.

"You," was all he said. A flare of irony and sense of karma swept over him. China had asked him the same thing.

_"Kiku, how can you be so evil~aru?"_

And he had given the same answer.

_"You."_

"Hurry up and break your fingers or I might just lose my patience," America said, no longer smiling. Yet, before he was able to reach for the elongated handle, something sharp twisted in Japan's gut, forcing him to bend over hacking. Every cough was involuntary and felt as if it were tearing his throat to ribbons. Finally there was a splatter, and Japan slowly opened his eyes to see the front of his uniform, and the edge of the table covered in blood. However, before he could react another burning column of pain slammed into his back.

He was openly sobbing now, feeling his people's suffering along with Tokyo's collapse, and although the pain was absolutely unbearable, he staggered back to his feet, choking up more crimson streams. His vision swarmed before his eyes, but he reached for the handle again.

It was distorted and flowing, his fingers missing it a few times, before finally grasping it. He began to turn it, not even hesitating. Broken fingers didn't compare to Tokyo falling, his beautiful Tokyo. He let out another scream as the boards came together for the third time. However, the it was merely a pinprick compared to the pain of losing his capital. There was a crunch, more pain, and then another kick in Japan's gut.

This time, he didn't cough, but outright vomited. The blood dripped in a steady stream to puddle around his feet and into the indents of the cave floor. He wheezed, not even having the energy to cry anymore, his tears dry.

"Oh my God, just let him go!" Canada's voice wailed. Japan shakily turned his head to find the younger twin sitting on his knees, expression horrified. "Just let him go! I'm the one you hate! Please let everyone else go, bro!"

"Oh Mattie, I don't hate you!" America chirped. Japan saw his face soften and he knelt by Canada again. "In fact you're the only one in the room I love at all!" Japan watched lethargically, leaning heavily against the table for support, as America patted his younger brother's head affectionately.

"You love Japan too!" Canada insisted. "You love Japan and I know deep inside you'd never want to see him hurt! Y-You've told me how much he means to you, how much seeing him in pain hurts you!" America's expression twisted into something angry, almost enraged.

"Watch it, _Canada_," he snarled.

"You love Japan! This isn't what you want at all! Japan is everything to you, he was there for you when you could barely stand up, he killed someone for you, he loves you!"

"SHUT UP!" America roared, backhanding his brother across the face. Canada fell hard onto his side from the impact, letting out anguished cry. "You and Japan both are liars!" America yelled. He stood up abruptly and kicked Canada in the side, before stomping down roughly on his bound ankles.

"Alfred, please let everyone go! Please, hurt me all you want but let everyone go!" Canada gave another pained scream as America increased pressure on his ankles.

"How about this? You pledge your allegiance to me, and maybe I'll consider it!"

"D-Do you promise?" Canada sniffed.

"I can't promise anything, but it won't hurt for you to try. Go ahead, say my pledge, Mattie. I've been waiting hundreds of years for you to say it." Canada swallowed, visibly trembling. After a seemingly brief inner debate, he opened his mouth to begin,

"I-I pledge a-allegiance to the FLAG!" Canada wailed as America stomped down harder. He gulped and gathered himself before beginning again.

"More emotion!"

"T-To the United States of A-America, and to the r-republic for which it stands. One nation, u-under G-God, indivisible with l-liberty and justice for all!"

"Very good," America praised. "What else do you have to say to your wonderful older brother?"

"T-That big brother A-America is better than me!" Canada cried as his ankles were crushed beneath his brother's boot. "I-I am less than the dirt America walks on and I should be...I should be lucky, big brother loves me so much!"

"Beautifully said,_" _America's psychotic grin grew inhumanly wide and he let out an unhinged round of laughter, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. "I have half a mind to forgive you for lying to me, but not before I kill everyone else!"

"NOOOOO! NO MORE!" Canada shrieked hysterically. "NO MORE KILLING, BROTHER! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! NO MORE!" America merely threw his head back and continued to cackle, the grating sound mingling with Canada's screams.

Japan felt horribly weak, practically laying across the table. He still had three more fingers to break, one for Finland, one for Vietnam and one for himself.

He feebly lifted his head to stare at the thumbscrew. With hooded eyes, his uninjured hand reached for the handle again. He still had to withdraw his newly crushed middle finger, but his free hand merely fell limply, knocking the against the handle and falling onto the table with a thud.

America's laughter was becoming more distorted and further away as Japan began to fade out. His legs collapsed completely and he slid from the table, the floor of the cave the last thing he saw before he lost consciousness.

_Someone. Please solve this case. It's a pathetic and heartbreaking case. So please..._


	29. Blind Chapter: Blue II

STATE OF HIGH PISSTIVITY! FANFICTION DECIDED TO BE AN ASSHOLE AND REPLACE THIS CHAPTER WITH THE LATEST ONE SO NOW I HAVE TO POST IT AGAIN WITHOUT SHOUT OUTS OR AUTHOR'S NOTES! *SNARLING ANGRY FACE*

Sorry guys.

Disclaimer: We own nothing

* * *

Japan awoke again, only this time instead of the dingy darkness of the cave, he was met with the florescent shine of lights grafted to a white ceiling. He hissed as his temples pounded with the unwanted glare and turned his head groggily to the side, squinting painfully.

_Better get up and face the music, Kiku, _Korea said in his mind.

"You're up," a voice said softly. Japan nearly flinched as a sense of familiarity jolted him awake, but relaxed when his eyes snapped up to meet with green instead of blue.

"E-England-san," Japan murmured hoarsely, lifting one hand to rub his bleary eyes. He noticed that three of his fingers were in a metal brace and wrapped tightly. "W-What happened?" England's eyes averted his questioning stare and he sat up abruptly, ignoring a slash of pain and the black spots flickering before his vision.

"Jesus man, calm down!" England exclaimed, lunging out of his plastic hospital chair and shoving Japan back down into the bed. Japan let out another growl of pain, but didn't fight against England's restraint. Instead he fixed the other country with a heated stare.

"England-san, what happened? Where are Germany and Italy?" Japan bit back the last question threatening to tear out of his mouth. _"Where is America?" _England's thick brows furrowed and he took a step away from Japan's bedside, looking down again.

"We think they're dead," he answered softly. Japan's eyes widened in horror and his chest throbbed with grief and fear.

"W-What? They're dead?" No it couldn't be. Japan stared at his wrapped fingers, remembering America's deal. It didn't make any sense. However, England nodded in confirmation.

"We found you in a cave tied up and alone. There was blood all over the floor and walls including hair and tissue stuck within a few torture devices." Japan felt as if he were going to vomit. Germany and Italy were dead? "We haven't found any bodies, but every capital of all missing nations are destroyed so we can only assume-"

"The river," Japan whispered, his throat suddenly dry.

"The what?" England said, tone confused. Japan closed his eyes as they began to burn.

"He threw all the bodies in the river. That's where…That's where I think he dumped them." Japan was on the verge of passing out. Germany, Italy, Denmark…everyone. They were all devoured by the horrible rapids, their people left to fend for themselves.

"We still haven't found America," England said, his own voice laced with pain. "Or Canada for that matter. Their blood wasn't in the cave or on any of the torture devices we found."

"Because America is a killer," Japan said, his uninjured fingers knotting in the stiff, sickeningly white sheets. He felt something twist itself around his neck like an invisible noose.

"Are you sure?" England asked, his voice slightly desperate. "Are you sure it was America?" He obviously didn't want to believe it anymore than Japan did, but the Asian nation nodded miserably in dreaded conformation.

Losing Germany and Italy had yet to totally sink in, but already _this pain_, this utter heartbreak, was like trekking through WWII all over again. However, he knew what he'd seen, there was no use in denying it. He'd done that enough. When Italy and Germany found all the pieces for him, he lost his patience with them, refusing to see the truth. When Greece's body showed up in a box and when everyone who knew about his hand in Reynolds' death went missing, that should have been enough.

_He should have…should…have…_

_What? _

"I'm sure. America was the killer. I-I watched him…" he couldn't finish. It hurt enough admitting he was a killer. There was no way he could repeat the atrocities committed. His people's screams still echoed in his mind, along with America's crying face twisting until it turned deranged with hysterical laughter.

"France hasn't spoken in three days," England said softly, bringing Japan out of his agonizing thoughts. "He's convinced Canada is dead and blames me. Of course."

"I'm sorry," Japan murmured, not really hearing. He sat forward this time, staring down blankly at the head of the shiny metal brace poking out of the bandages.

"Not your fault," England whispered, although it sounded as if he were trying to convince himself more than Japan. After a moment of the two merely staring downwards, England spoke again. "He was so adorable when he was little I…I never thought…"

"I'm sorry," Japan repeated. In truth he was sorry. He was sorry for everything. This was all his fault. He'd had his chance to stop this by simply telling America the truth about what happened in Hanoi, and that he loved him, but of course his honor came before anything. Every emotion he felt in the cave came back, and it was like being tortured all over again, only this time knowing it was for nothing. He wanted to cry, but refused to shed a tear while England was in the same room.

"We also found this," England spoke up again, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a slip of paper. Japan stiffly turned his head and reached out his good hand to take it. "It was written in your language, so I figured it was to you." The paper was stained with dampness and red. Japan fought to keep his hands from trembling as he unfolded the parchment. Another shooting pain drilled through his chest as he recognized the childish scrawl.

It was America's broken kanji from the day Japan was sent to Hanoi, when he attempted to teach the younger nation how to write in his language. The symbols were horrid and barely recognizable, and Japan was sure none of his people would be able to decipher it, but the message, bloodstained and slightly smudged by water, was clear to him:

_Alfred loves Kiku Honda forever!_

More than clear, it was absolutely piercing. In this one fragile little sentence, America had told Japan everything he needed to know. The single slip of dirty paper was the final break in Japan's already crumbling wall. Forgetting England was still sitting next to him, the first tear rolled from his burning eyes and he grit his teeth.

This-this was proof.

This was proof that those few gossamer happy hours they shared before the world interfered had been real. They had existed. It hadn't been a dream or a lie. America had loved him. _Alfred_ had loved him. Despite how much Japan ended up hurting him, unintentionally or not, he finally knew. There were no what-ifs or exceptions.

He loved Alfred too.

So much it hurt.

Now, he lost his America. Maybe forever.

_That wasn't America and you know it, _Korea inputted dryly. Japan ignored him.

Perhaps it started out simply because Japan had been disgusted with Reynolds, but this tiny cluster of sloppy kanji finally made him realize. Even if America was a killer, the love didn't fade. No, it only turned into pain.

One salty drop slid down his cheek, leaving a moist trail in its wake before plopping down onto the hurried brushstrokes. More followed as Japan reread the sentence over and over. He remembered America's face twisted in concentration, as he carefully tried to copy the correct letters, pausing his work every so often to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

It had taken America an hour to write out this simple phrase. His brow had been furrowed in concentration as he constructed Japan's human name, tongue sticking out from the side of his mouth. The image brought with it another wave of grief, and Japan brought the paper to his chest, shoulders quaking as he curled into himself, a dreaded sense of hollowness overcoming him.

In the back of his mind, he heard the scraping of metal legs against the cold hospital floor as England stood. Japan choked back the sobs, not wanting the other nation to feel anymore pity than he already did. England's footsteps took him to the door where they stopped. However, Japan didn't lift his head to look at him.

"If it means anything, he _did _leave you alive."

With that, England's footsteps sounded again, where they faded down the hall until he was gone. Japan finally let out a sob, no longer wishing to hold back. The crumbled bit of paper was rough under his palms while he pressed it to his body, subconsciously hoping it might serve as a bandage. Yet, it only seemed to make it worse.

Hearing everyone had died because of him was a feeling so horrible it was nothing short of indescribable. However, only one person mattered-the one person he should have reached out to before it was too late. Every saddened look on America's face flashed through Japan's mind, along with all the times they went ignored.

"_I'm so sorry!" _his thoughts wailed. He was angry with himself, wanting nothing more than death to take him. He had been selfish, totally oblivious to America's feelings and now he wished he could only go back in time and change everything. He'd make those unhappy faces disappear and make America understand that he was the one Japan loved, not Greece or anyone else.

His anger and guilt didn't fade as he let out a growl, gritting his teeth and twisting his fingers into the bed sheets. _"Alfred, wherever you are, I hope you're happy. I hope you realize what you've done and that you haven't hurt Canada." _He shuddered at how stupid the wish sounded, how impossible it was, bur merely thought on._ "I want you to come back, so I can tell you how I feel, so I can apologize. I want to tell you I never felt anything for Greece other than friendship, and that I was a coward for not telling you how I really felt. Just…_

_Please…_

_Please come back so I can protect you, because I will _never_ hurt you like that again." _

Japan hadn't been expecting anything, but suddenly he heard the slow groaning creak of the door to his room and lifted his face in time to see it shut revealing America behind it, covered in blood and the horrible cleaver in his right hand, the same one which had effortlessly chopped through Cuba's neck and Vietnam's people.

Instead of euphoria, Japan felt nothing but absolute terror as America approached, head down until he stopped at Japan's bedside. Japan was torn between throwing himself back and reaching out to him. In the end, he was only able to stare upwards, his eyes wide and mouth open agape. America halted at his bedside, his hair shielding his down turned face from view.

"I killed Canada," he whispered softly. Japan wasn't sure what to say, his heart beating away in his chest like a caged bird trying to free itself. He didn't want to make America angry, and he definitely didn't want to be killed, so he was left silent.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Kiku? Because I'm listening. I'll believe you if you tell me."

Japan's mouth opened and closed silently. All the previous thoughts about loving America were gone, swept away. His mind was left blank. He couldn't answer.

Suddenly, the hand holding the cleaver twitched and America's shoulders began quaking. His mouth twitched into a demented grin as laughter filled the hospital room. America threw his head back and Japan was able to see the blood splattering his cheeks and forehead, his eyes insanely blue and sharp.

"You're the only one left Kiku!" he shouted joyously, lifting the cleaver above his head, gripping the elongated handle with both hands. Japan was rendered frozen, the scream in his lungs frozen there as America stared down at him hungrily, his grin now a satanic sneer. "I saved you for last!" he cackled. "I wanted you to be dessert!" America's wild laughter filled the room as Japan powerlessly watched the cleaver's blade come down, aiming right between the eyes.

Japan awoke with a scream, the descending blade turning into smoke right before his head was cleaved in two. He let out a rough gasp, his eyes wide and his heart beating wildly. At first he didn't know where he was. The only thing he noticed was that he was suspended, something pinning his arms to his body and binding his legs together. Three of the fingers on his right hand burned with horrible fire, but there was no way to relieve them. He squirmed a bit, taking in his surroundings, seeing the torches, and the table with the thumbscrew. He was still in the cave.

"There he is! Up and at 'em!" America's voice proclaimed. "Time for you to see the rest of the show!" Japan looked to his left and sure enough, all the trapped nations were still tied up and terrified. Terrified…but thankfully very much alive.

Japan let out a shaky breath of relief, but returned his attention to America, who gave a cough. "You of all people should know it's rude to look around when someone is talking to you," America scolded, wagging a finger. "But it's good you're awake now. The other Lovelies were getting bored."

"I know, I'm so looking forward to the punishment game!" the yellow masked killer exclaimed, clapping his hands.

"You're so cute when you're happy," the purple masked killer murmured affectionately through the voice filter. He reached out a hand and wrapped an arm around the yellow killer's shoulders. Their display of affection was lost on Japan though, who's frenzied mind only caught two words.

"Punishment…game?" he breathed, sickness rising from the pit of his stomach. He looked at America, who was grinning evilly, hands clasped behind his head.

"Yup!" the pink killer chirped, hanging off the arm of the green killer.

"You didn't do what Blue asked, so you have to be punished," the white killer added softly.

"You see, Kiku," America began matter-of-factly. "You passed out before you finished breaking all the fingers required to save everybody. You broke three, and last I checked there were six nations to save including yourself. Passing out is a sign of forfeit."

"B-But that's not fair!" Japan cried. He could only imagine the horrors about to take place with this so-called 'game'.

"Neither was the fact you lied to me!" America snarled menacingly before calming and smiling again. "But it's like what Iggy always told me and Canada, 'life's not fair, especially for nations', am I right, bro?" Japan weakly turned his head in time to see Canada staring wide eyed at America, as if he couldn't believe the person he was looking at was his relatively sweet-natured, if not oblivious, older brother.

"Please don't do this," Canada begged softly. "Please bro, I'll do anything." America raised an eyebrow and let out a condescending laugh.

"Oh really? Why don't you give the thumbscrew a try and pick up where Japan left off?" Canada fell silent and looked down at the ground. "No?" America questioned. His face saddened. "Aw, well that's too bad for Miss Ciel isn't it?" Canada's head jerked up, his eyes wide.

"No, please don't!" he begged. "Leave Vietnam alone!" Vietnam, who was laying on her stomach next to Canada gave a small growl from behind her duct tape gag. America clicked his tongue in apparent disappointment and unfolded his hands from behind his head in order to reach into his jacket.

"You really disappoint me, Matthew," America chided. "You'd think as the younger twin brother of the Untied States of America you would be a little less of a sissy. If we weren't identical, I doubt anyone would know we were related, not that they know now. Still, _Etsi_ would be so disappointed in you…"

Japan watched in horror as America made his way to stand before Vietnam. They glared daggers at each other for a moment, something unsaid passing between them. America's smile was gone, the torchlight casting menacing shadows across his face.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this," America murmured, his voice laced with sick pleasure. "If I even _think_ you're going to spit in my face, I'll bust all your teeth out, understood?" Without another word, he knelt down and placed his hand on the duct tape. However, before he tore it away he harshly pressed the barrel of the gun against Vietnam's forehead, causing her to wince with pain. Then, with no care whatsoever, he removed the tape with a harsh shred.

"Fuck!" Vietnam shouted.

"You know I miss that about us," America reminisced.

"Burn in hell, you sick piece of shit," she growled. America's mouth quirked into a little sideways smirk.

"Those are some nasty words coming from such a sweet tasting mouth."

"Fuck you!" Vietnam screamed, positively enraged. Canada merely stared at her, his blue eyes swimming with hurt.

"You've been there already," America laughed. "Though I admit I wasn't nearly as limber as you. I guess France taught you more than just how to write." That was it. Japan saw something unhinge from behind his sister's eyes. Never had she been afraid, but she had restrained herself for self preservation. Now there was nothing but pure fury. After a moment of struggling, she got to her knees (much to America's surprise and apparent horror) and lunged forward, head-butting him in the nose with a dull crack.

America reeled back with his own stream of curses, blood dribbling from between his fingers. He too became enraged as he regained his bearings and delivered a well-aimed kick at Vietnam's mouth. His boot connected, and she gave a yell, spitting out a stream of blood and a few teeth.

"You fucking bitch!" America hollered, releasing his nose. Blood was now streaming from his nostrils and over his lips, but he made no move to stop it, instead fixating Vietnam with a stare that contained nothing but cold hatred. "You broke my back anyway!"

"You're disgusting!" Vietnam shouted, a faint tremble in it.

"You didn't seem to think I was so disgusting when I was screwing your brains out!" America retorted. "Must I attempt to mimic the sounds you made?"

"Just stop it!" Canada shouted. Japan thought for sure he heard a touch of anger and protectiveness in his voice. Then again, it wouldn't have been surprising considering they were both colonies of France. "Leave her alone!"

"Alright Canada, I give!" America sighed, blood still pouring from his nose and plopping down his shirt. He kneeled before Vietnam again and placed the gun's barrel back against her forehead. "Tell me Ciel, what's the difference between a toad and a frog?" Japan felt a dull sense of shock come over him as an utterly hurt look, something he had never seen pass across his sister's face before, made itself prevalent. Her eyes actually became wet and she looked to the side in anger and shame.

"Y-You fucking bastard," she hissed, tears still not falling, but utterly close.

"Aw, did I hit a nerve? I wasn't supposed to tell anyone that, was I? I think you mentioned it in one of our little after-sex talks. How Thailand and Laos would tease you about it by putting them in your bed at night?"

"Shut your filthy mouth, pig," she hissed.

"Don't tell me you're having regrets about our jungle fucking. Hey, we both needed to get laid. Oh wait…" America's smile became a nasty leer. "You actually thought it meant something?"

"I fucking kicked your ass, you sorry waste of a country!"

"Using guerrilla tactics, but who's being technical?" America shrugged. "I guess seducing your enemy is as good as fighting them."

"Leave her alone!" Canada demanded again. America ignored him completely and pulled the hammer back on the pistol. Japan instantly felt panic rise and began to struggle. Italy, who was hanging next to him watched him with horror.

"No, America don't!" Japan cried, his voice echoing in a futile effort to reach through to the good America still inside this monster. "Don't do it! I-I'll break my fingers! Please don't hurt my sister, please!"

"Sorry Japan, but you've had your turn." Japan immediately stopped his useless efforts, coming to a horrible conclusion. His time at center stage was over. He was now just a spectator to the massacre about to unfold. "Now unless Canada wants to give it a go, Vietnam has to answer the question," America stated, prodding the other nation with the gun. "Come on Ciel, answer the question. What's one difference between a toad and a frog?" Vietnam stared up at America with the same cold hatred he showed her. There was no fear, only pure defiance.

Suddenly, Japan saw movement from the far corner and America panicked, standing up abruptly and pointing the gun at the source. Japan followed his line of sight and saw that the purple killer had broken rank and was being held back by the yellow killer.

"Stay away from me!" America shouted, pointing the gun at the other nation. The yellow killer was muttering something in a language Japan couldn't place and forced him back into the line with the other four. America then turned his attention back to Vietnam, kneeling down once more. However, he remained wary, his back tense and his easy smile gone. "Answer the question, Ciel."

"A toad has warts and is fatter and lumpier like you!" she spat. America's face grew into a frightening a grin. Canada, already scared, became terrified at his brother's expression.

"ALFRED, NO!" he wailed.

"Correct!" America said cheerfully, pulling the trigger. The bang echoed through the entire cave, along with the light, high clicking of the bullet casing falling to the rocky ground. Japan watched Canada's pupils dilate to barely visible as Vietnam's blood splattered the side of his face.

There was a shrill silence after that, the only sound being the distant roaring of the river. Then, Canada let out a few choked whimpers which quickly lumped into a single hysterical scream. The scream was like a seal to the atrocity just committed, and upon realizing Vietnam was really dead, Japan let out a shriek of his own, crying wildly.

"_Imouto!" _he called without thinking. _"Imouto!" _

He stared at Vietnam's body through his blurred and burning vision. She was lying facedown in a sluggishly spreading puddle of red. She didn't move, even as Japan called to her repeatedly. Her long black hair hid her face from view and pooled around her shoulders like inky waves, mingling with the blood. America stood up and giggled maniacally, both hands balled into fists by his chin. Then he let out a scream of his own to blend with Japan and Canada's. However, his was full of excitement and glee, arms spread out wide.

"I did it!" he shouted to the stalactites. "I finally did it! I killed that bitch at last! I killed the bitch who humiliated me! She did this to me and I killed her! I killed her! Praise me Mr. Nixon! I did it Mr. Eisenhower! Mr. Johnson, praise all the hard work I did for you! Be proud of me now! _Be proud of me!" _He ended it was a wild laugh, his horribly empty eyes huge and frightening.

While America ranted to his long-dead bosses, Canada had scooted over as best he could and buried his face in Vietnam's shoulder blades, sobbing miserably.

"I'm sorry," he cried quietly as his older brother rambled to the cave ceiling. "I'm so sorry, Ciel! I'm so sorry!" America calmed again, his uncontrollable laughter dying down to a few cruel giggles.

"Sorry to break up the love fest, but the punishment game isn't over yet," he informed, once the giggles ceased. He gripped Canada's shoulder and shoved him away from Vietnam's body, then grabbed her bound ankles and began dragging her to the back of the cave, towards where the roaring was coming from. His horrible blue eyes swept over the nations on the wall and halted on Finland who, even through his tears, was glaring at America with empty eyes. "I have something special planned for you, Tino."

_He's dumping her, _Japan thought, suddenly very cold. It was cold anyway, but it now he could feel it, his broken fingers going numb.

_He's throwing her in the river, _Korea's voice agreed solemnly. America only used one hand, Vietnam's face being scraped uncaringly against the rocky cave floor. The blood from the gunshot left a crimson trail behind. Japan watched them both disappear into the darkness further back, everything numb.

He was dumping her.

He was dumping her as if she were merely a piece of garbage. Canada was lying on his side, positively bawling, his tears mingling with the blood.

_What's he doing to her? Oh, please don't let him be that cruel! Don't let him throw her in that river! _Japan cried in his mind.

_He is that cruel, Kiku, _Korea reminded. _He's doing just the opposite of what your asking. He's dumping her in there._

_No._

_Kiku, he's not the same America. _

_But he…_

_He doesn't love you anymore. You hurt him like you hurt us. He's getting you back. He doesn't love you…_

America reemerged from the shadows, his sneering grin back on his face as he stared at Finland. Finland didn't even flinch at the unhinged, sadistic glee being directed at him, his eyes glassy but his expression fixed into a frown. America stopped a few meters away and waved his hand.

Instantly, the green and pink killers separated from the line and hurried over to where Finland hung. It was as if they were telepathic, working together rapidly as they lowered Finland to the ground and dragged him back to the line of killers.

"America, no more!" Canada yelled. "Please, no more!" America merely watched the pink and green killers drag Finland's bound body to the opposite wall. There, the other killers swarmed around something, hiding Finland from view momentarily. America, bleeding nose and all, approached lazily as the killers parted out of his way.

He was tied to what appeared to be some sort of large wooden wheel. Finland's arms and legs were spread away from his body, his wrists and ankles apart so his body made an 'X' shape across the opening.

"Well, well, how are you, Finland?" Finland, his mouth still covered with the duct tape, merely glared for an answer. "I better remove this tape so we can chat properly." America walked forward and ripped the tape away. Yet, Finland didn't so much as whimper, his eyes full of dull hatred.

"You'll never get away with this. Su-san is going to kill you when he finds out what you've done." America gave a sharp scoff.

"Please, you think I'm afraid of _Sweden_? Don't make me laugh. The mumbling idiot is the last person I have to worry about." America then turned in time to see the white killer, who had left briefly, return wheeling a cart of cruel looking torture devices. Japan felt all the blood drain from his face at the sight of them. However, only one instrument fully caught Japan's attention. Resting above the various blades and drills, was a very large cleaver.

"You're not scaring me," Finland remarked as America picked up one that reminded Japan of a human hand with long steel hooks with serrated edges for fingers. On the white killer's tray, Japan also saw with a horrible, nauseated fear there was a blue mask. America softly touched the edges before picking it up and placing it over his face. Then, stroking the claws affectionately, turned to Finland again.

"Do you know what this is, Finland?" he asked casually, his voice now distorted from the filter in the mask. He held out the claw-like weapon to the tied nation. Finland was silent, still frowning. It was strange to see him so angry-looking, his usually kindly face scary in its own right. "This," America said softly after a moment of hushed tension, "is a Spanish tickler, or depending on your part of the world, a cat's paw. It's an extension of the torturer's hand and is used to rip off pieces of flesh from the victim's body."

Finland still said nothing. America's expression soured and he lifted the cat's paw above his head. "If you won't react I'll just make you," he hissed. He brought the device down on Finland's right arm, the steel claws sinking into the flesh and tearing. Finland let out a shriek of pain, blood spurting from the new wound. "There we go! Are you scared yet, Finland?" America demanded, raising the claws again and bringing them down on the same spot.

"No!" Finland shouted defiantly, his blood trickling down to pool on the cave floor. "No, I'm not scared of you! If anything I feel sorry for-_AHHH!_" he wailed as the tickler came down again on his other arm, blood flying and staining the blue of America's mask. Finland's eyes were large as he screamed. His fingers spasmed as he was repeatedly struck, his wrists involuntarily pulling against the ropes. America's sick eyes glimmered with revolting delight from behind the mask as the claws punctured Finland's clothes and flesh like they were nothing.

Japan was startled when he heard muffled screaming coming from his right. Denmark was struggling wildly against his bindings, his eyes wide and enraged.

"Uh oh." America stopped momentarily to cast Denmark an amused look. "My my, looks like your boyfriend on the side isn't enjoying our game."

"Stop it!" Canada shrieked repeatedly. "Stop it! Stop it!"

"Sing my national anthem and maybe I'll consider it," America scoffed, slamming the claws down again, only this time into Finland's shoulder. He was sure to give it a cruel twist popping a few ligaments and staining the side of Finland's face with blood. He gave a grunt as he tore away, his victim wailing in agony.

"America, stop it, please!" Canada pleaded. "Let him go!

"Come on, Matthew, you sing so prettily! My people positively _love _all your bands and singers! Barenaked Ladies, Three Day's Grace, Celine Dion, The Arrogant Worms, Justin Bieber..." America brow furrowed and a look of pure revulsion overtook the crazed malice. "You know what, just for that I'm going to kill everyone in this cave. Hard."

"Fuck Alfred, you can't do that! That's not fair!"

"Easy, Mattie." America laughed. "I'm only busting your balls! Gosh, you take everything so seriously. Anyway, why don't you treat Finland to my lovely anthem? Sing it well enough and I might be inspired to let him go." He brought the tickler down again, Finland letting out a wretched scream of agony.

"_O-Oh say can y-you see, b-by the dawn's early light," _Canada began tearfully.

Finland screamed as America laughed horribly.

"_What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming!" _he shrieked hurriedly.

"Don't rush it now!" America chided. "It's a beautiful piece of literature which should be," he paused to strike Finland again, "respected!" he finished with a grunt as he ripped the claws away.

"_Whose broad stripes and bright stars, thru the perilous fight!" _

Finland gave another bloodcurdling scream.

"_O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?"_

"Come on Mattie, his screams are getting too loud for him to hear you!" Japan thought Finland was going to faint, the skin not covered with blood pasty and white, his eyes glazed. However, America took a break from his horrid torture to grab a hypodermic needle from White's tray and stabbed it into Finland's neck. America hit the plunger and Finland's eyes instantaneously grew. He took a sharp breath, fingers curling and straightening stiffly as he belted out a strangled cry. "You're being shot with exactly 0.3 milligrams of epinephrine, aka adrenaline," America explained cruelly. "Can't have you passing out on us, now can we?"

"_And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air!" _

America raked the claws down Finland's stomach.

"_Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there!"_

Finland's screeches filled the gave nonstop. "Louder!" America ordered, the entire bottom half of his mask covered with blood.

"_Oh say does that star spangled banner yet wave!"_

Finland was spitting up blood along with crying.

"_O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!" _Canada finished. He broke down into wretched sobbing before screeching, "Now let him go! Please America, please for the love of God let him go!"

"What about the second verse?" America asked innocently, tilting his head.

"Second…verse?" Canada breathed out almost as a gasp.

"Yes, it's my favorite part," America said. "What, you don't know it?"

"I…I…" Canada stuttered horribly. America gave a pained hiss, which through the filter sounded like a demon's growl. Then, he giggled, turning away from his brother to look at the bloody nation before him.

"Oh, poor little Finland!" America sang, lifting the mask to examine his work so far. The claws were dripping crimson, and shreds of something Japan told himself were pieces of Finland's clothes dangled wetly from the serrated tips. Finland's head was down, chest wheezing as he breathed harshly. Sweat came down his forehead and dripped down with the blood on his arms. "You really need your big dummy of a hubby to protect you, don't you?"

"Shut up," Finland growled lowly. He lifted his head abruptly and Japan was rendered utterly speechless by how narrow and angry his eyes appeared. His blond hair was disheveled and his face was covered with blood and tears, but he was absolutely powerful. America even took a step back, his smile fading. "Don't you dare insult Su-san while you hurt people for such a cowardly reason!"

"In case you haven't noticed, you're in no place to make demands. Besides, I'm not just hurting you," America's smile returned, "I'm killing you." He slammed the claws into Finland's side, wet ripping drowned out by Finland's screaming. "Which is a shame," America grunted as he yanked on the embedded device. "Christmas," a pause for another jerk and wail, "will be a lot less lively when you're not around." He lifted his foot and placed it on Finland's chest, using it as leverage to bring the device away.

A strange muffled sound was coming from the left and Japan turned his head to see Denmark flailing wildly, his eyes frenzied and borderline crazed. "Looks like your boyfriend over there doesn't appreciate the game we're playing," America remarked. "Which is a shame, because this is the most fun I've had in centuries."

"I'm actually sad for you," Finland panted. America turned back around, his face now bemused and curious. "I'm sad for you because you're just a baby and you're following Black, who's just a baby himself."

"You know who Black is!" the yellow killer exclaimed. America's face grew shocked as Finland nodded, a sad smile on his face.

"I know Black very well and what he's trying to do won't work. You can make nations forget, but not the people. It's not going to work. That's why I said no when he asked me to join you. That, and I won't be a killer." America suddenly let out a laugh so loud it drowned out the rushing river for a moment before he quieted.

"You really think I'm 'following' Black by doing this?" he questioned. "You really think I chose this voluntarily?"

"You did, or else we wouldn't be here!" Finland spat.

"Black had me forced into a corner!" America growled. "I just taught myself to enjoy killing to make it easier, and now I see why people do it." He lowered the mask back over his face and stabbed the tickler into Finland's other side, earning another cry of pain. "It's so much fun!" his distorted and deepened voice gurgled.

"Alfred, enough! Stop it!" Canada pleaded. "No more!"

"I know!" America chirped brightly. "White, throw me that tape recorder." The other killer obeyed and turned towards the tray, picking up a small rectangular device and tossing it at America. He caught it with one hand and pressed the record button. "All these lovely screams you're making will be a perfect gift for Sweden! Hold this Red," America ordered, handing the recorder to the silent killer. He brandished the tickler again, and brought it down on Finland's left arm, twisting it cruelly.

Yet, there was no accompanying scream as the ligaments snapped and the blood spurted wetly around the intruding metal, splashing against America's mask and hand. America pulled the device away with a sick suckling sound that made Japan want to puke and stepped away.

"Wow, this is a shame. Are you already bleeding to death?"

"I won't do it," Finland panted, one eye closed as he stared directly into America's. "I'm not going to scream. Not so you can use it to hurt Su-san." America seemed taken aback for a brief moment, then his shoulders squared and he went dangerously rigid.

"You pathetic little bitch!" he snarled, lifting the tickler above his head and bringing it down on Finland's chest. "We'll see how long you can keep this high-and-mighty act up!" Finland grit his teeth as the torture tool came again.

"If they actually let you hear this Su-san, know I wasn't scared!" he yelled as America continued his rampage. "Know that this doesn't hurt so bad, that he thinks he's scaring me, when really he's just a pathetic baby! He's a baby like Sealand! He's gotten drunk with power! And I won't crumble to him, just like I didn't crumble to Russia!" America let out a scream mixed with a laugh as he repeatedly tore away at Finland's arms and torso.

Canada was no longer screaming, his eyes large and dark as he watched his brother. The same shock that had left Japan numb was now greeting him. He was a sorry sight, his tears still falling silently, and Vietnam's blood coating the side of his face and hair like crimson paint.

"I wasn't scared Su-san! I was strong because I won't let them use me to hurt you! America is pathetic giving into this madness and I won't let him frighten me! I love you Su-san! I love you so much, and no matter how much pain I have to endure I…I won't let him defeat me!" America's eyes were no longer amused, but deadly as he struck harder and deeper, tearing away more flesh. Finland's face was now practically covered with his own blood as he bit back more screaming.

"Shut up and scream!" America roared.

"He wants power over me, because he's weak!" Finland yelled. "He's weak because unlike me, he doesn't have somebody to be strong for! Japan doesn't-"

He was cut off by an ear piercing shriek and a crunching thud. Japan wasn't even able to react, only look on with horror at what had just occurred.

As soon as Finland mentioned Japan's name, America had dropped the tickler and grabbed the cleaver from the tray of torture devices. With a large swinging arch, he brought the blade down on top of Finland's head, rendering him permanently silent.

Now America stood gripping the handle with the cleaver still protruding out of Finland's skull. Japan watched as a steady, thin stream of blood trickled down the sharp edge of the cleaver to America's sleeve.

_That's going to be you, Kiku, _Korea said grimly. _He's going to split your head like a piece of wood. _

Japan felt the vomit rise as he realized the truth in the words.

Finland's face was no longer visible, shielded by red, stringy hair. Silence dominated for a few minutes, the only thing audible being America's laborious breaths. Then, he pulled the cleaver out, the sucking, wet sound enough to make even the pink killer cringe against the green killer's side.

"That wasn't as fun as I thought it would be," America murmured, reaching up towards the edges of the wheel and using the cleaver to cut Finland's body down. He fell like a puppet from its broken strings, his limbs sprawled brokenly. Denmark was positively roaring from behind the tape, struggling wildly as America turned.

When they had fought in World War II, Japan had never been afraid of death. He accepted the possibility he might die with honor and pride, but now as America turned, his face covered with that hideous blue mask and another country's blood, Japan was afraid. He was afraid because he didn't know who this person was. His eyes, the bright blue disks shining in the torchlight, were so frigid and so…_evil. _

As America drew near, he removed the mask and Japan was sharply reminded that this was indeed America, not some faceless, nameless entity. This was a nation who had loved him. This was a person who tried to stop himself, even when Japan was so negligent of his feelings.

"Now it's your turn Japan," America announced, his tone surprisingly subdued. Japan realized with growing sadness America wasn't able to look him in the eye. "I really don't want to do this," he whispered, raising the cleaver. Japan gaped, remembering the pain-induced dream. If he said it now, America would listen, and now was going to be his last chance. America's eyes finally met his. They were large and slightly red from a sheet of tears building. "I love you," he whispered shakily as he brought the cleaver down. Japan closed his eyes, waiting for the blow that would split his head in two.

"I love you too," he whispered. A loud twang filled the cave, and Japan was surprised by the lack of pain that came with dying. Yet, he could still hear the roaring of the river and frowned. Shouldn't death be silent or…something? He opened his eyes in time to see the blade of the cleaver barely a centimeter away from his head, buried in the wall of the cave. Then he looked forward to see America staring at him, hands still on the handle, wide-eyed and utterly shocked.

"W-What did you say?" he breathed. Japan was silent for a moment and hurriedly licked his lips.

"I said, I love you too." The tears that were building in America's eyes spilled over, though he made no sound. He only blinked slowly several times, the feverish insanity fading until his eyes became clear.

Slowly, and almost rigidly, America turned away from Japan, his eyes owlishly huge as they looked around the cave, like they were seeing it for the first time. They fell to Finland's broken and mutilated corpse then to the blood trail left by Vietnam's body then finally to Canada curled into a ball on his side, also bloody and crying silently. America took a few unsteady steps so he was facing Japan again and released the cleaver handle, bringing his hands shakily closer to his body.

Ever so slowly with growing horror of his own, he looked down at himself, and upon seeing the blood, let out a piercing screech which broke into gut-wrenching sobs.

"I-I don't want to be like this!" America wailed, eyes closing. He looked so horribly small, like a child missing from his mother. "I don't want this! I don't want to kill you,!" His hands fell limply to his side and he fell forward, weeping miserably against Japan's shoulder. "I-I know you, Kiku! Even if you lied, I know you would never…" he broke off into more crying. Japan, although at first surprised, felt it fade quickly into sorrow and let his head fall so his cheek rested against America's.

"I'm sorry I never said it sooner," Japan murmured into his ear. "I'm so sorry I hurt you. I love you, no matter what." America lifted his hand and touched Japan's cheek. He cringed when he felt the sticky wetness of Finland's blood, but gave America a weak smile as he pulled away.

"I-I have to kill you," America cried. "I have to do it and make it quick because if I don't do it," America paused and looked over his shoulder at the other six killers. "If I don't do it they will, and they won't make it quick like I will! That's why I have to do it!" America explained desperately, taking the cleaver again and ripping it out of the wall. He held it above his head again, tears falling freely now. "You have to understand I can't stop this! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Forgive me, Kiku!"

"WAIT!" Canada hollered, before America could bring the blade down for the second time. "America, I'll do it! I'll do it! Don't hurt Japan! I'll do the freaking screw thing, just let everyone go!" Suddenly, America's eyes darkened and he whirled away from Japan.

"You selfish little shit!" America bellowed. Canada's eyes widened in terror as America threw the cleaver to the side. The killers scattered as the blade spun wildly and clanged against the floor, plowing through Finland's blood before it smacked against his body dully.

America grabbed Canada's neck with both hands and shoved him backwards until he was on his back, head slamming against the rocky ground. Straddling his younger brother, America tightened his fingers around Canada's neck. "You little shit! You could have said something before I had to kill Finland!" Canada gasped, his eyes closing, America's face was angry and dark. "How does it feel, huh? How does it feel to be strangled by the one person in the room who gives a fuck whether or not you live or die?" America snarled.

"America, stop it!" Japan shouted. America paid no attention, the younger nation unable to even grip America's wrists. Finally after a moment of gagging and gasping, Canada managed to wheeze out,

"I…It's my…fault."

"Huh?" America murmured staring for a moment. Canada looked up at his through his tears, and America obligingly loosened his grip.

"It's…my fault you're like this," Canada coughed. "I hurt you, but this isn't you, America. My big brother isn't like this, because he's a hero. I-I just can't bear to watch you kill anymore people!" Canada cried. "_Etsi__, _always said that just because you're in pain doesn't mean-"

"You can cause others pain as well," America finished in miserable monotone.

"This isn't you, bro," Canada whispered. "This isn't you. Let everyone go." America gave a deep sigh, but he didn't make a move.

"You don't understand that your brother is dead. He's been dead for a long time and there's no bringing him back," America murmured softly.

"He's not dead though!" Canada argued. "I saw him just now! I saw him when you spared Japan! It's not over for you! You can fix this! I-I can help you!" America smiled sadly, it was America's 'Oh shucks' smile. The kind of smile he always wore when he admitted he made a mistake, as rare as that was. Still, this was America's smile, the _real_ America's smile.

"It's too late," America whispered he looked at the killers. "All seven of us are just dead nations walking. That's why we can kill with little to no remorse. None of us are the countries we used to be and never will be again. So, now that you've agreed to break your fingers, it's time to end this game for now." America stood slowly and addressed Japan. "I'm sorry if I frightened you, but this is the last thing I can do that will be at least relatively decent." He approached slowly, walking away from Canada until he was in front of Japan. He leaned foreword until his lips were next to Japan's ear.

Japan stared over his shoulder at the killers, all of them watching silently now, staying away from Finland's body. Japan felt his heart leap into his throat as America's arm moved to his pocket as he whispered,

"If you ever see me again, run. Run, because by that time, the America you knew will be long dead and it will just be Blue inhabiting my corpse." With that, America removed his hand from his pocket and placed the chloroform-soaked rag over Japan's nose and mouth.

Immediately the toxic liquid invaded his sinuses like fire, and the world descended rapidly into darkness.

The last thing Japan saw before he passed out, was America mouthing something that went unheard.


	30. Tribilin

**Haha, I bet you guys weren't expecting me. ;)**

**...Well, nevermind, it must have been pretty obvious since it took about half of a month to update. XD Ah, well, this is Lucky here, bringing you the next crazy chappie of this growing insanity~ This is a little calm down sorta thing, so don't expect too much blood or gore or anything you guys expect these days. *does hilarious hand gestures***

**So, you guys'll get your darling Angel back next chappie, so you only have to deal with me for one chappie~ :3**

**Disclaimer: ...Not ours. :3**

* * *

_It's all my fault._

_It's my fault America's gone._

_My America died, and I didn't do anything to stop it. I didn't know about it, though. I should have seen it. I should have seen that something was wrong. I should have done something about it._

_It's all my fault._

_And now Blue's the only one left._

"Japan! Japan! Kiku! Snap out of it!"

_...How much longer can we last in this?_

"Kiku! Oh my God, France, look at his fingers!"

"I would be very appreciative if you didn't make me look at anything in particular right now, _mon cherie_. I don't quite think I can take it much longer..."

"_Nihon! Nihon_! Please! Please wake up!" a new voice sobbed as Kiku felt someone tug gently on his arm.

_It...aly?_

"Please don't die, please don't die, Japan! We're gonna get you to a hospital right now for your fingers! Please, please just hang on!"

"Italy...Italy...don't..." Japan felt the tugs on his arm disappear just as a few wet tears landed on his face. What was happening? Did everyone else die? That couldn't have happened, right? He broke the fingers...he broke the fingers for them! Japan forced himself to crack open his eyes and wanted to close them immediately after. He was still in the cave.  
England and Italy's faces were hovering right above his. Italy was crying, tears falling shamelessly down his cheeks as England breathed a sigh of relief, his face extremely pale.

"Thank God you're alright," he said, offering a hand so Japan could pull himself up. Kiku automatically tried to raise his right hand from the ground, which caused him to give a loud shriek of pain. England, if it was possible, became even paler. "Oh, I'm so, so sorry!"

"Considerate of you," Denmark said from behind Italy. "Real smart of you, England. Here. Arms around my neck, Japan." Denmark turned around and crouched down. Kiku winced when he felt someone gently pushing his shoulders up, and he strained to wrap his arms around the Dane's neck. "There you go. Hang on tight now."

"T-T-Thank you, Denmark-san," Japan gasped, blind spots appearing in his vision when he accidentally brushed his right fingers against Denmark's cheek. The blond chucked a bit, standing up too quickly in Japan's opinion, making his head pound with both pain and slight nausea.

"Hey, you saved my life. Carrying you around piggyback is nothing compared to that." Denmark turned back around so he was facing the others. Italy looked like hell with deep shadows under his eyes while Germany had so much dirt clinging to his face, both sides looked like they had been damaged. His eye patch had fallen off. Japan looked away before he could get a detailed view of the eyelids sewn together.

"Where's...where's France? I heard him talking a few moments ago," Japan said softly, taking inventory of the group that was in front of him. Italy's eyes teared even more, but he quickly raised an arm, trying to wipe them away before anyone noticed. Germany and England only looked over to the corner behind Japan.

Denmark turned so Japan could see. France was crouching by Canada, who's right hand was still in the Spanish thumbscrew. France was also crying, but he was whispering what Japan guessed to be comforting words in French to his former colony, slowly raising the boards with the lever. Canada shook with agony, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from screaming.

"Oh," Japan said pathetically. He remembered the final moments vividly. America's pain filled anguish, the crimson cleaver, and the other country's wailing as he begged Japan for forgiveness. Then, Canada intervened and saved his life, just before America…

"Japan...did that hurt? B-Breaking your fingers. Did it hurt?" Italy shook upon seeing Canada and France. Germany remained quiet, staring up at Japan as England hesitated by the large group before turning away to drift off to France's side.

Japan closed his eyes and let his head drop onto Denmark's shoulder. His voice was muffled when he finally spoke. "What do you mean, Italy? Did it hurt physically? Of course it hurt. How could it not? Did it hurt to make the decision, however? I'm ashamed to say that it took a moment for me to decide, but I'm very happy with the decision I made."

Germany stared at for him a few moments. "Thank you for my life, Japan," he finally said. "I assure you that we will try our hardest so another situation like this doesn't happen again." Japan looked up to see Germany completely serious.

"Thanks too, Japan!" Italy said. Japan saw him trying his hardest to smile, but the corner of Feliciano's lips only trembled slightly before turning up in a half-hearted sort of way, his eyes constantly flickering to France and Canada in the corner. "It's just hard to believe that..."

"It's over," Germany said quickly. "There's nothing else Blue...America...could do to us at the moment." Japan, far past shame, buried his face in Denmark's neck to hide his face. It was all his fault. Everything was his fault, and the rest of them knew it. They knew it, and deep down, Japan was sure that they were blaming him too.  
It made him want to curl up and die.

"Now, I dunno about you guys, but I really wanna get out of here," Denmark said suddenly. "I've already called Sweden to come and pick us up from here in a plane, if possible. I think Iceland is discharged from the hospital already, so he might come too. I just told Sweden to land by your house, Japan. Is that fine?"

"It's fine."

"How long should it take him to get here?" Italy asked, dirt and dust starting to stick to his face because of his drying tears. "I...I really wanna get out of this place," he added in a whisper. "I don't like it here at all. It smells like blood and that smell when you rub your finger against metal. It's disgusting."

"It should take him...well, them, hopefully, about a few hours. Sweden drives like a maniac, so his attitude might affect the pilot, which might get them here in around...possibly five hours?"

"When did you call them?" Japan asked.

"A few minutes after I woke up."

"An hour ago, then," Italy sighed.

"I was out that long?" Japan asked, his head still pounding lightly.

"We thought he killed you," Denmark answered solemnly. "You didn't move for the longest time and were just barely breathing."

"I was so scared, I kept calling you, but you wouldn't move. I really thought America killed you, _Nihon_," Italy sniffed. "But you're okay for now until we get you to a hospital, and now we all just have to calm down." He rubbed furiously at his eyes in a futile attempt to stop the flow of his tears. "Well then, Germany, Japan, let's get started." Japan looked up from Denmark's neck to stare at Italy.

"Started....started on what, Italy?" Germany asked.

Italy sniffled and then straightened his back. "On collecting evidence, of course. I don't want to, but someone's got to do it. Now that we know that the blue killer is America, we just have to find enough evidence to convict him. I doubt that would be too hard, considering we're in a treasure trove of evidence right now and that we're all witnesses to the reveal, but nonetheless, there will be some that might take a bit more convincing." Japan looked down again.

"And what will you do when you find evidence, Italia-kun?"

Italy blinked as if it was obvious. "Why, I'll declare war on him, of course." Then he faltered, his expression troubling. "That might be hard though, considering it appears he's vanished without a trace and I just can't storm his land and start killing innocent people," he sighed. "But first things first, let's gather up the evidence while it's still fresh, then we'll figure out what to do with America. Though I'm sure Canada has his own thoughts on the matter. I have a feeling this is more his fight than ours." They all turned to look to where France was wrapping Canada's finger in a makeshift splint from a piece of cloth torn from his uniform before Italy spoke again. "Germany, do you still have that case we brought with the evidence we collected so far?"

"Of course," Germany answered.

The next few hours were spent dusting for fingerprints, taking pictures, and taking samples of blood. Italy had kept the suitcase of what used to be filled with pasta ingredients but was now stuffed full of detective gear. Japan saw Germany biting back a smile when the gigantic magnifying glass made a reappearance. Italy pulled out a small camera and passed it to Japan, ordering him, from his vantage point on Denmark's back, to go around and take pictures of anything they might use. After asking Denmark if he was tired in any way, to which the Dane laughed and said, "Hell no, you're much lighter than Iceland," the two wandered off to corners of the room, Japan violating the memory space of the camera to the max.

Germany was handed scissors, a knife, gloves, and baggies and was ordered by Italy to cut off pieces of cloth that had dried blood on them for DNA testing. The blood on the ground could be scraped off with the knife. Germany paled immediately but quickly slid on the gloves and moved to a small patch of dried blood on the ground. Italy cried out last minute for Germany to grab hair samples too, and tossed him a pair of tweezers that nearly impaled his good eye.

England, who had been pushed away by France to help the investigation, was passed a note pad and a pen and was ordered to take detailed notes on the entire area. Italy stressed the details so much that England grew irritated enough to threaten him with violence. Japan saw Germany smiling just slightly as Italy cringed and moved away. It probably amazed Germany too how Italy could still stay himself in these times. After England stomped off, now successfully pissed, Italy pulled out a small bottle and some pieces of translucent paper and bounced away, traveling around the cave every inch of the place for fingerprints, particularly the Spanish thumbscrew.

All of the nations worked quietly and quickly in the cave. After a few moments, Canada declared that he was fine, and that if Japan could help, then so could he. Italy, smiling at him, passed him another camera and asked him to take pictures of the outside. France was given a notepad and pen and followed Canada outdoors. Japan, in his fury of picture taking, ran out of memory after a while and handed the camera back to Italy, telling Denmark to let him off his shoulders. "I broke my fingers, not my legs," Japan reminded.  
Denmark laughed, making the other nations in the cave look over at the disturbance in the previous silence.

He dropped Japan gently onto his feet. "I know, I know, but even you must like being pampered for a few moments, Japan."

"I...I don't have time to be babied." Of course, a very, very long time ago, Japan had allowed China to pamper him once in a while. He had enjoyed it, the knowledge that someone would take their own time to make him feel better. Whenever Japan had gotten a stomachache, China had always been there to rub his belly and tell him stories of brave warriors and people that should never have been given swords to begin with. Japan had always burst out laughing at the funnier stories and lay there in awe at the reverent ones about heroes of different lands where the sun never sets.

_Where the sun never sets..._

Japan coughed awkwardly into his fist, looking away from the Nordic.

"...Ah, it's okay, I get it," Denmark said, patting Japan on the head. "There was someone special, wasn't there? Besides America." Italy's head shot up and blinked at the two. "Not like that, Feliciano. Someone that's close in a different way, right, Japan?"

"I...I don't—"

"A brother to you, right? A parent? A mentor?"

"China?" England asked, cocking his head curiously. The other three turned to stare at him. "Sorry, don't mind me, just taking notes..."

"You're not writing down what we're saying, are you?" Germany asked.

"Of course. Why not?"

"Let me see that," Germany snapped, snatching away England's notepad. "_ 'You're not writing down what we're saying, are you?' Germany asked, sounding unhappy. Perhaps he had something to hide, perhaps he didn't want something penned down. 'Of course. Why not?' I asked, careful to gauge his reactions. He seemed angered, unhappy with this intrusion of privacy_..." Germany read aloud. "What are you trying to do, England, write a novel?"

"I was told to stress the details," the Brit said haughtily, pulling his notebook back from Germany. "My apologies if this isn't detailed enough for you..."

"Italy was talking about the details of the crime scene! Not of some stupid discussion happening on the sidelines!"

"One, I already did that. That was the first eight pages." England flipped through them, making sure to show them slowly to Germany so the other could keep up. Germany rolled his remaining eye. "Two, you'd be surprised to find that the most interesting conjectures can be made by taking notes of the reactions of the investigators on the scene. You can't forget that there are more killers out there than just A-Am...erica." England hesitated, and then turned back down to his notepad.

"...And that's the last that we're gonna hear from Detective Kirkland, is it?" Denmark asked sarcastically. England glared up from his novel in the process but didn't speak.

"How much longer until they get here?" Italy asked, looking around the room. "Does anyone have a watch?"

"Uh, hold on." Denmark dug through his filthy pockets, finally resurfacing with a small, silver cell phone. He flipped open the screen and a digital light flickered. "It's...wait, I dunno how long it would have been. And my clock's set to the time back at my place..."

"Don't worry about the time now," Germany muttered. "Since France and Canada are outside, they should be able to give us a heads up if Sweden's here. Now...wait, where's Vietnam?"

"Viet...nam?" Japan voiced. He looked down at where she used to lie, face down, in a pool of blood, but the area was completely bare, most of the blood being scraped off by Germany in a futile attempt to try and uncover something underneath.

"Did they move her? I couldn't see from where they had her positioned with my new blind spot," Germany admitted almost grudgingly

" 'How queer, England thought, that the others shouldn't notice that there was a trail of lightened ground leading to the loud roaring sound...'," England read out loud from his notepad. Japan looked down, astonished, to see that there was, indeed, a path of ground that was lighter than the area around it leading from the area that Vietnam was lying to...some place around the bend.

"Oh, doesn't this just bring back memories," Italy smiled, following the trail around the corner. The others in the cave could hear him gasp loudly. "Oh my God! Come look at this!"  
Japan pushed himself off the wall and stumbled in the direction that Italy had disappeared off into. The roaring of the water intensified, making his sensitive head pound until he felt it would split open. A hand suddenly snapped out, catching Japan's elbow.

"Careful," Germany mouthed when Japan looked up in alarm.

"I'm fine, Germany-san," Japan said, but his voice was lost to the crashing of the waves. The group tripped forward until they reached where Italy was looking, reverently, over a large, cascading waterfall. This particular tunnel ended here, opening up to a valley spangled with a few clumps of trees before breaking off into an untamed forest, rare now on his land. Japan took deep gulps of the clean winter air, glad to breathe anything other than the cave's chloroform and blood mixed scent.

"It's so beautiful," Japan saw Italy mouth, but he couldn't hear anything. Japan raised his left hand to dig a little at his ear. The sound was simply unbearable.

The view was gorgeous though, a perfect reminder of what nature could accomplish if she was given the time and the patience. The sun shone right on the water, making a rainbow spout up from the water droplets and extend right into the forest. There wasn't a single town or city in sight. Japan noticed that waterfall itself wasn't that tall upon closer inspection, but had many ledges and rocks jutting out, causing the loud roaring. The waterfall ended in rapids and sharp, jutting black boulders dotted the rest of the way downstream.

Japan's heart sank. Did they throw Vietnam over? Is that how they disposed of the evidence—by tossing the victims over?

_You know that's where she is now. Don't deny it anymore, Kiku. She's gone_, Korea's voice spoke. Japan didn't react, simply accepting the voice. Hearing Korea was comforting in a way, even if he wasn't particularly helpful—not that he had been when he was alive.

_She's gone_. Kiku felt terrible. _She's gone._ Not only did he fail to save her when he had the chance, but he also couldn't save her after death. Even when they had been small, Vietnam had always been the one that wasn't afraid of death, the most courageous out of all of his siblings. Kiku knew very well that she would have much rather died knowing her life had saved others than just die uselessly, so she would have been satisfied with this way of passing. _Arigatou, onee-san. I wish I was as strong as you and I held on for a moment longer to save both you and Finland-san._

Something poked Japan in the back. He turned around to see Germany holding England's the notepad up, all of the other nations already converged around it. Japan moved to join a break in the circle.

_Do you think Vietnam was tossed down there?_ the notebook said.

_Where else could she be?_ he thought bitterly, but merely swallowed and nodded. Germany turned the notebook back around and scribbled quickly on it before turning it back around.

_If that's so, then there's no chance that we would ever retrieve her body. I say that we go back to the main cave for the moment._

So the group trudged back to where the sound of the water was bearable and they could talk at a humane tone level. As they re-entered the cave, it became obvious just how strong the scent of blood was. Feliciano gagged slightly while Denmark's nose scrunched unhappily. Japan frowned when he heard panicked voices coming from the cave. As they rounded the corner, a blue blur raced right past him and latched itself on Germany. Italy screamed and dove off to the side, just as England swiftly pulled out a gun and pressed it to the newcomer's back.

"Back away, hands in the air!" he barked.

"_Mon dieu_, England, don't shoot me!"

England's eye twitched. His finger inched closer to the trigger. "Francis?"

"Um...England...I-I think that you can put that gun away now..." Canada said tentatively as he turned into view of the investigation party...plus France. Who, by the way, had backed away from Germany, his hands in the air and his eyes trained on the barrel of England's gun. "We...we just got back...and Francis sort of...panicked when we didn't see you in the main cave."

"I thought you all were dead," Francis whispered, not looking away from the gun. His expression looked pained, as if he was unwillingly admitting this. "I thought you were dead or you were taken too. Just like...just like...all of those other nations..."

"...Git." England's gun came down, but he frowned as he pocketed it. "I'm insulted that you'd think we'd go down that easily."

Echoing footsteps began sounding from the long, winding tunnel. "That's Sweden and Iceland," France said quickly when he saw all of the nations tensing up. "Matthieu and I came back to find you to see if you're ready to go." Canada passed Italy his camera just as two more nations ran, breathless, into the area, which was beginning to feel horribly cramped.

"Sweden," Japan said softly, watching as Sweden and Iceland charged into the cave. They both stiffened at the terrible smell of blood, but Iceland had to double back. Japan could hear retching sounds coming from the bushes outside and immediately felt pity for the other nation.

"Oh my God..." Italy whispered, and then quickly jumped in front of one stretch of wall. Japan's heart plummeted when he realized that Italy was deliberately trying to cover up Finland's corpse. England, his eyes widening when he noticed the nation in the darkness Italy was trying to hide, charged forward immediately.

"Sweden. Iceland," England added, as the snowy-haired nation walked back into the cave on shaky legs. "How did you find us?"

"We wandered," Iceland said, his face pale as he took out a handkerchief and wiped at his mouth. "There was...a kind of path of this blood scent, and we followed that. We got off track a few times, but we made it."

"Oh my God, it's great that you both got here. We've been going insane, cooped up in here," Denmark breathed in relief. "Sweden, Iceland, we've got a lotta injured people. You can help out with the transportation, right?"

"Of course, we came here in a plane. It let us off in front of your house, Japan. We'll be able to support everyone that's hurt back to your house," Iceland said, trembling slightly at the sight of the thumbscrew France had previously freed Canada from. "Oh my God...this place is like a nightmare..."

"You landed a plane...in Japan's lawn?" England asked quizzically, raising an eyebrow.

"Just a little one," Iceland squeaked. England still didn't seem convinced of their innocence.

"Is that even legal?"

"N'," Sweden said immediately. Iceland winced.

"Er...a bit on, a bit off...see, we kind of...missed...the airport."

"Missed? Missed how?"

"It...we slid a little more...forward...than we had originally anticipated..."

"Y're tabl's on the n'se 'f the pl'ne, Japan," Sweden said bluntly.

Japan blinked. "O-Oh. Well that dining table...it was old anyway..."

"Wait, wait, wait," England held up a hand, a forced smile on his face and a slight twitch growing in the nerves of the right side of his face. "Just how did Japan's furniture end up on the nose of the plane, again?"

Iceland laughed nervously and scratched at the back of his neck. "Interesting story, that is..."

_Iceland held the controls with a death-like grip, his eyes wild with terror as he stared out of the cockpit. Sweden was sitting next to him, is expression as dull and unreadable as usual. If Iceland didn't know any better, he might have thought Sweden was completely oblivious to the danger they were in considering **Iceland had no idea how to fly a fucking plane, let alone land it!**_

_"Remind me why you thought it was a good idea to take off without the pilot?!" he asked shrilly through grit teeth, sniffling a little past his latest cold. His puffin was squawking in terror, flying about his head in a blind panic, which was not making the situation any easier considering feathers were getting everywhere._

_"W' h've t' g't t' Denmark and m' w'fe," Sweden grunted, his icy eyes fixated out the window and the rapidly approaching ground._

_"Well, that's all fine and dandy, but leaving early won't do much good if we **die in a crash!**" Iceland shouted, spitting out a clump of feathers as the puffin's wing smacked him repeatedly in the face, causing him to jerk back, thus sending the plane into a rightward dip. "Oh, there's still so much I haven't accomplished!" he wailed, his usually frigid expression now full of agony as he (with great jostling and difficulty) righted the plane again._

_"Y' h've t' keep th' needl' 'n th' gr'n," Sweden instructed, reaching under his seat for the flying manual then pointing to one of the many gauges._

_"What for?" Iceland demanded, reaching under his own seat for a barf bag. Admittedly he was very intimidated by Sweden, so when the considerably larger nation instructed him to fly the plane without waiting for the pilot, who had been delayed several hours due to mass panic in many of China's cities, he had done so almost without thinking twice. After all, Sweden, despite his constant worry over Finland's disappearance, had taken him in once he was discharged from the hospital. So Iceland figured it was only fair he did as his host asked.  
_

_Now he figured it was probably the **worst** idea he had in a long time, because nothing kept Sweden apart from Finland, gravity and ocean be dammed._

_"Th't's y'r sp'd," Sweden explained. Iceland gave him an incredulous stare. Usually, he was pretty decent at understanding Sweden's incomprehensible accent, but today, plagued by terror and the increasing urge to vomit, he only managed to squeak,_

_"What?"_

_"Th't's y'r sp'd," Sweden repeated unhelpfully. "W're c'ming 'n f'r l'ndin'. P'll th' thr'ttl' b'ck," he directed._

_"What?" Iceland questioned, his violet eyes looking over the various intimidating knobs and doohickeys he had no idea how the hell to use._

_"I sa'd p'll th' thr'ttl' b'ck," he repeated._

_"I don't understand what you're saying!" Iceland yelled in frustration, his voice filling the cockpit and drowning out the roar of the engines momentarily. "You're leaving out too many vowels! I can't understand what you're saying!"_

_"Th'n l't m' do it!" Sweden growled, lunging from the copilot's seat and grabbing the black handles sticking out of the dashboard. Iceland let out a miserable groan as the plane's nose dipped below the horizon and Japan's house came into view._

_"You're not seriously thinking about landing on his front lawn are you?" Iceland demanded._

_"W' m'ssed th' a'rport." Iceland stared at the larger nation incredulously for a moment._

_"You told me the airport wasn't for another three miles."_

_"I l'ed." Iceland rubbed his temples in frustration. He tried to think happy thoughts, but such thoughts were hard to come by when one found themselves careening out of control on a private jet. Instead, Iceland found himself yelling uselessly._

_"Are you insane!? It's bad enough we're invading Japanese airspace illegally! I'm surprised they're not shooting missiles at us yet!" It was true, for as soon as they had gotten over the island, the radio frequency had been bombarded with angry Japanese babble._

_"Uh, s-sushi! Um…uh…M-Mitsubishi! Suzuki! Kawaii! Toyota! Gomenasai!" Iceland had practically sobbed into the speaker. Usually he prided himself on being able to keep his face thoughtful and his emotions at bay, but he was never one to keep it cool when he was very likely going to die in a burning plane crash, regardless if his capital was still standing. "Look just don't kill us, we aren't the nation-killers!" he begged once he had exhausted his pathetic Japanese vocabulary. Fortunately, Sweden had reached up and turned off the radio._

_"I h've t' g't m' w'fe," he now murmured dangerously, reaching by Iceland's knees and turning a small black wheel._

_"W-What are you doing?" Iceland demanded._

_"Turin' th' tr'm wh'l. It adj'sts press're of th' y'ke," Sweden answered shortly._

_"I don't know what you just said, but you can't just land on someone's front lawn!" he shrieked. "They're already angry with us, you'll make it worse!"_

_"W'tch m'." The small plane dipped further and Iceland let out a miserable moan before using his barf bag for the first time._

Japan knew that he should feel either offended, worried, angry, or D, all of the above, but all he felt was very, very tired. He sighed, lowering his head into his good hand as Iceland finished up his story with a meek, "And then we got out of the plane and then walked over here, the end." England's eye twitched but he managed to refrain from saying anything.

"W'll pay f'r 'vryth'ng," Sweden added solemnly.

"No...please...that's...not necessary..."

"That is bleeding necessary!" England exclaimed, surprised. "They landed on your house with a plane, Japan! You need compensation for that room!"

"No...really...it's fine..."

"Can they get us back to China's hospital where everyone else is?" Germany interrupted, stepping up so he was beside England. He must have felt that this conversation was going nowhere. "We've got everything from broken fingers to vanishing sanity. I think we should head back now." Sweden was starting to stare at Feliciano.

"Wh're's Finland?" Sweden asked, his brow furrowing and his glare unintentionally intensifying. Italy refused to squirm. "Italy, wh'ts wr'ng?"

Japan looked around at the rest of the nations in slight wonder. Wait...did they really want to hide Finland from Sweden? Forever? And suddenly, at the thought, anger from deep within him bubbled up. Why would they do such a thing?! How could they let a fellow nation live on in the illusion that his loved one was still alive? "Italy must just be analyzing the evidence in the room right now," England said smoothly. "Poor chap's been through a lot but he's a right good detective if I've ever seen one. Now, it might just be me, but I think we should move now and get away from this smell of—"

"He's hiding Finland-san's body, Sweden-san."

…No one moved for a long time.

"A-A-Are you j-joking, Japan?" Iceland finally asked. He slowly wrapped his arms around himself, beginning to shake like mad. He tentatively looked up at Sweden, who's expression didn't change a bit. Looking even more frightened, he turned towards the last Nordic in the room. "D-Denmark! Is he...is he...?"

Denmark hesitated, looking around at all of the nations gathered around him, trying to find out what to say. No one wanted to tell someone that their lover was dead. Finally, Denmark, after locking eyes with Japan for a few moments, looked down. "Ja. Finland's gone, Iceland. I'm sorry, Sweden."

Sweden's head slowly lowered. "W're 's he?"

"Sweden, I think it's a good idea if you don't—"

"He's behind Italy-kun, Sweden-san."

Sweden walked forward slowly towards Italy. Feliciano looked up, the pity in his eyes enough to turn legions of criminals. "I'm sorry," he whispered, simply, before he turned and ran over to Germany, shamelessly burrowing his face in the larger man's chest and begin to bawl his eyes out. France covered Canada's eyes with his fingers, but the smaller nation reached up and pulled France's hand off of his face.

Finally, Finland's broken body was shown once more. Japan looked down, not brave enough to stare at that broken frame one more time. He heard Sweden inhale sharply. However, soon after was another gasp followed by a sharp jab to his ribs. "Look, look," England whispered in his ear. Japan looked up.

His eyes widened.

Sweden had rolled Finland onto his back where he gently cupped the smaller nation's chin in his hand and kissed him softly, his other hand reaching to gently brush the white-blond hair that had clotted together with dried blood out of Finland's face. "H'nat'm'go missed y'," he said softly, pressing his forehead to Finland's bloody one. "She was lookin' f'r y' ev'ryday. P'ter 's sp'nding t'me w'th Engl'nd m're now that y're n't h'me. I m'ssed y're co'kin'. Latvia's br'ng'ng K'tty ov'r th'se d'ys, so H'nat'm'go has a fr'nd. W're all h'ppy, so y' can rest 'n pe'ce, Finland."

Germany gently pushed Italy away, grasped his knife and, setting his jaw, moved over to cut the remains of Finland's bindings. Sweden nodded his head in thanks, not even hesitating as he shrugged off his jacket and slipped Finland's freed arms through the sleeves. Germany bent down to cut off the ropes holding Finland's ankles as Sweden gently kept his torso off the ground, Finland's legs dropping like lead weights once Germany finished. Sweden didn't hesitate in sweeping his deceased love into his arms, bridal style.

"Sweden..." France murmured, his eyes downcast.

"Finland's m' w'fe," Sweden said simply as he walked back to the large, lingering party. "He was m' w'fe b'f're and he's m' w'fe now. Th't'll n'ver ch'nge. Italy, h'w did he die?"

Italy gulped at being singled out before he straightened his spine and stared Sweden right in the eye. "He died...Finland...Finland refused to scream. He refused to scream for America after he heard that it might be used against you, Sweden." Tears started pricking Italy's eyes. "He said...that if they do show it to you, he hopes that you'll know that he wasn't afraid. And that he loved you." Italy blinked rapidly. "He loved you so, so much."

Sweden nodded. "Thank y', Italy. We b'tter get g'ng n'w. Th' pl'ne's wa't'ng."

"W-Wait, is Finland coming with us?" Canada asked. He was the first to stumble after Sweden as they started the journey back up. Sweden turned back, looking as surprised as Sweden could look.

"'f c'rse."

"Aren't you going to at least close his eyes?" Sweden's gaze turned to fixate itself on Denmark, who didn't shudder, didn't back down. Iceland clung to his arm, his eyes wide and staring at Finland's body.

"N'. Finland died h're, so I at le'st want him t' keep his ey's op'n so he c'n se' that he m'de it out." Sweden turned back around and started out of the cave. "I'll 'nly cl'se his ey's aft'r we g't back h'me."

Iceland was the first one out of shock. He simply sighed and then began walking quickly to match Sweden's stride, disappearing back up the tunnel. Italy was next, followed by Denmark and Canada in close succession. Germany hesitated, looking at Japan, France, and England. France closed his eyes. "Love without boundaries," was all he said before he too walked out. Germany stared at France's departing back before nodding at England and Japan, turning on his heel and walking on. Moving on. Leaving this hell hole behind him.

Japan looked around him, at the bloodstained floor and walls and the torches. So much had happened in this small place with the hauntingly beautiful waterfall. So much blood had dirtied those surfaces. Yet, Japan felt that he didn't want to leave. This place was a sanctuary against the outside world where anything could happen. Here, there were rules. Follow them and you and your friends would survive. In the real world, there wasn't nearly anything that fair. Even if you break your fingers, you might still loose your best friends.

What had happened on the surface when he was gone?

"After you." Japan blinked. England stood in front of the exit, a hand brushed out as if welcoming Japan into a high class place where killers and victims were things of novels. Japan frowned but stepped out of the cave and into the tunnel, feeling England turn and follow him out. They walked in silence for a few moments, the others far ahead, before England spoke out again, this time surprisingly tentatively. "Japan...your hand, doesn't it still hurt?"

Japan's brow furrowed. What an odd question. He had honestly stopped paying attention to the throbbing feeling after a few moments of detective work and exploring the cave.  
"I...I suppose it doesn't hurt much anymore," Japan said, slowly squeezing experimentally with his right hand. He gasped as a white-hot pain shot up his arm and he stumbled.

"My God, don't strain yourself!" England cried, alarmed, his hands shooting out to grab Japan's shoulder to stop him from toppling. "My apologies for asking! I was just wondering, since you didn't say anything about it being in pain the entire time we were down there." Japan huffed in slight irritation. His sense of balance was rather off, though he could probably blame that on the chloroform.

"Oh, I suppose I just got used to it. Like how you get used to someone being ar—" Japan trailed off, a slight frown creasing his brow. "England? Just what were you and France doing here anyway?" England was silent for a while, as if he was contemplating something. Japan tried to turn around but was instead prodded lightly on the back. He complied and kept on moving forward.

"France got a phone call from A-Alfred saying that Matthew...that Matthew was dead and that he was sorry. Francis had...Francis had been extremely unhappy and called to arrange an appointment with you, Japan." Kiku blinked. Oh. He remembered that. Francis had called, panicked, to ask if he could come over in a few days time to ask Alfred about Matthew. His shoe slapped on a small puddle of water as he continued up. He could visibly see some lightening of the tunnel walls around him. "When France called you again to confirm the appointment and you didn't pick up, he became fretful and dragged me over here to check on you. After we arrived in front of your house it became obvious that you weren't there. And then...we heard laughing. It sounded so...so evil and France...in his paranoia, chased after the sound immediately...and then we ended up at this cave."

"Did you see Norway-san's body then?" Japan asked. He rounded a corner and the afternoon sunshine shined right into his dark-accustomed eyes. Kiku winced at the abrupt change in environment and raised an arm to shield his sensitive eyes from the sunshine.

"W-What? Norway's dead?"

And at the precise moment, a loud and long wail pierced the air. Japan felt England stiffen behind him as they both were rooted to a complete stop. Japan turned around, spots in his vision from the light, and asked England, "Was that just my imagination, or did that sound like Iceland-san to you too, England-san...?"

England grimaced. "I wish that was my imagination, but I heard it too. Come on, we best hurry up and see what's happening." Japan needed no more encouragement and took off down the remaining stretch of darkness, wincing when he reached the full blast of the sunshine reflecting off the early morning frost. "Bloody hell," Japan heard England mutter as he, too, was exposed to the piercing sunshine.

"Japan, Japan," Italy cried, latching himself onto the shorter Asian nation at once. Italy settled for burrowing his face in Japan's collarbone, sniffling loudly. It took Japan a few blinks before he recovered enough to awkwardly pat Italy on the back. That, however, seemed to be enough. "There's so much sadness, _Nihon_, I don't like it. I don't like it."

Iceland had collapsed beside Norway, who's body was splayed on the ground like a carelessly tossed rag doll. The younger nation had taken one of Norway's lifeless arms and was hanging onto it as if it would save his life as he screamed over and over, his head tipped up to the heavens. Japan thanked the Gods (something that he hadn't done in a while) that the killers removed Denmark's axe from Norway's chest, undoubtedly to use it later, but at least it was gone. That would have simply complicated things, and Japan was pretty sure that Iceland wouldn't have listened to anyone at the moment, considering the mental state he appeared to be in.

"_Norge_!_ Norge_!_ Stopp late_!_ Stopp late som du er borte, kan du ikke bli borte, du kan bare ikke_!" Iceland buried his face into his the sleeve of his brother's bloodstained shirt and wailed. The dried blood on Norway's clothes, days old, caked and fell off in small chunks with the violent shaking that it was receiving. "_Kom tilbake til meg_!_ Du er ikke borte_!_ Du er ikke borte, onii-chan_!" Japan shifted so he could look around Italy's bouncing hair curl to see Denmark move forward, sitting down on the ground and wrapping his arms around the smaller Nordic.

"It's okay, Island, it's okay," Denmark said softly, rocking back and forth slowly. "I saw him. He was praying. He was praying, so he's gonna go to heaven. He's safe where he is, he's safe. You saw Sweden, he prayed for Norway too. Everything's gonna be fine."

"_Du er helt feil, du er helt feil, gå vekk, gå vekk_!"

"It's gonna be okay, Island, it's gonna be okay. Norge is happy now, he's happy and safe and warm and there aren't nation killers and there's gonna be a lotta sunshine where he is and God's gonna feed him salmiakki to pay for what he's done to you, but it's okay, Island, it's okay, everything'll be better, you'll see, you'll see..."

"_Ikke la meg, ikke la meg, ikke la meg_..."

"We won't leave you, ever, I promise, Island, we'll be here forever and ever and ever and you'll never have to be lonely and we'll make sure that you're happy because Norge would want you to be happy..."

Iceland continued crying and yelling, flailing violently to try and escape Denmark's restraining arms. "I'm going to kill you!" he suddenly shrieked, the change in his emotions so sudden that Denmark actually blinked with alarm. "I'm going to kill the person who did this!" His crazed eyes flickered around the circle in a mania of trying to find his brother's killer. He finally stopped on Canada and gave a bloodcurdling scream and immediately knocked off Denmark's arms, diving straight for the North American nation. "You! America! I'm going to kill you!"

Canada gave a surprised cry and fell as Iceland tackled him to the ground. Japan watched with horror as Iceland bit down, hard, on Canada's arms like a rabid animal.

"Francis!" Kiku heard England call from behind him, and then two blurs raced over and slowly began prying Iceland off Canada, who was now bleeding. Italy, who had looked up from Japan's shoulder, began crying and screaming in his own language. Germany moved over quickly to take the Italian off of Japan's hands.

"Iceland, that's not America! That's Canada!" France cried futilely, wincing as one of Iceland's bites pierced his skin as well. England snarled and slapped the Nordic across the face, but it did no good as Canada began shrieking in pain when Iceland started digging his nails in his neck. Denmark joined the fray, tugging at Iceland's back.

"Island! What the fuck's wrong with you, man?" he snarled, wrapping his arms around Iceland's torso and pulling back violently. England and France both pulled Iceland's arms off of Canada, but Iceland retaliated by turning around violently and biting England on the cheek. The Brit didn't back down a bit, even when he felt his own blood trickling into his mouth, but France had since let go of Iceland's other arm to try and shake him off of England.

"Iceland, stop!"

"Japan, you should go help," Germany said quietly. Japan nodded quickly before running forward and slamming sideways into Iceland, making him squeak with surprise and break away from England's face. The two of them tumbled messily on the ground before Japan rolled out on top, his hands around Iceland's neck and his voice slow and quiet.

"Iceland, I know that you're upset about Norway passing away." Iceland shook his head violently in a weak attempt to get away, his hands coming up and scratching painfully at Japan's fingers. Japan felt white spots appear in his vision when Iceland attacked the injury and he gasped, his grip weakening. "J-Just stop and listen to me, damn it! I know you just lost someone important to you, but that doesn't mean—" Japan broke off with a scream when he felt Iceland punching his broken hand.

Iceland rolled out from under Japan and pushed himself off the ground, swaying as if he was drunk. His maniacal eyes sought out Canada and he started off towards the nation, seeming to zigzag as he moved forward slowly. France, who had been dabbing at Canada's wounds with a handkerchief, saw Iceland and quickly moved so he was covering the younger nation, his eyes narrowed.

"You bastard! You fucking psychotic piece of worthless trash! How _dare_ you defend him! He turned on his own brother! He's a monster that needs to die!" Iceland shrieked, lunging forward.

"Oh no you don't," Denmark snarled, catching him from behind before the nation could do anymore damage. "You will fucking stay right here. Don't you dare bite me, or I'll feed your little puffin to the dogs!"

"_Nihon_..._Nihon_, are you okay?" Italy was next to Japan, who was trembling, having curled himself into the fetal position. "Please, _Nihon_, stop crying...I'll make you some pasta so it'll feel better, but please stop crying..."

"Let go of me," Iceland cried softly. His insane rush seemed to have worn off, and he was sagging like a limp doll, tears starting to dot the ground beneath him. "Let go of me. He killed Norway. He killed him." A lump rose in Denmark's throat but he simply coughed, refusing to succumb to the same instability Iceland had moments ago.

"One, that's Canada who you were clawing at. I think you owe him an apology later for both mistaking him for his brother and trying to kill him." Iceland inhaled sharply, but he didn't say anything. "Two...do you really think that Norway would want you to charge recklessly at someone who managed to kill him? I think he'd want you to stay alive since he didn't get the chance to."

A loud roaring coupled with a frightening collapsing sound filled the air, leaving all of the nations just inside the line of trees able to see a plane rolling backwards out of what was obviously the remains of Japan's house. Apparently Iceland and Sweden had been a little lacking in their description of the true damage done.

Italy squeaked and tugged Japan up, just as all of the other nations started out. France, helping Canada to his feet and keeping himself between the younger twin and Iceland, cautiously set out, an irritated England following with a handkerchief pressed to his wounds. Germany sighed and took Italy's arm, nodding at Denmark before picking up a weeping Japan gently and heading out, Italy close behind. Denmark looked down and attempted to smile at Iceland, but he had since crawled back to Norway's body and curled up on the dead nation's chest, his eyes wide and unseeing. Denmark's smile faded when he realized Iceland was looking for a heartbeat, muttering something, and clutching at Norway's frozen hand.

It was pathetic to watch, and it made him slightly sick. He and Norway had been best friends, and yeah his death hurt, but this was something else entirely. He let out a sigh and knelt by the smaller nation, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder.

"Hey, come on, Sweden's here. We're going to go home."

Iceland didn't move. His eyes stayed glued to something far away, his ear still against Norway's chest, mouth moving slowly. Denmark thought he just barely heard his whispers above the roar of the engine.

"Norway...Norway...it's...it's America's fault. It's all...it's all America's fault..."

~*~-~*~

Italy was just plain tired and scared. America was a killer. America was Blue. America was still running around, completely psychotic. Italy shuddered as he remembered the nation's wild laughter that broke into gut wrenching sobs. At the very least America was sick, but it was a kind of sickness Italy wasn't sure there was a cure for.

He was back at Germany's house, curled against the taller nation's side as he trembled within the sheets. Germany had long since gone to sleep, his breathing slow and steady. In a way, Italy envied him, able to sleep without the nightmares plaguing him. Italy continued to tremble, his eyes wide and refusing to close, lest the horror he saw in the cave come flying back at him like some terrible Technicolor movie in his head, always playing on a loop.

He'd seen worse things done to humans, but to nations? A nation completely flying off the handle in such a way was unheard of. The closest was Russia, but even in his darkest hours, Russia had done everything for his people. He loved them even when he didn't love himself. A nation's people were a nation's beacon of light.

America…America hadn't even cared. That was a scariest thing about him, Italy thought. Even when a nation was it his or her worst, they still did everything for their people. Yet, America brutally murdered five nations and his own states without ever thinking twice about it. He attacked his own capital. That was…America slaughtered his own people…

Italy cringed further against Germany's side, tears welling up again. What had happened to him? What happened to the cheerful, bright nation who used to rant about giant robots saving the world and being heroes? How had America gone from being so passionate and caring to so cruel and sadistic? When had he developed that grating laugh that still haunted Italy to this very moment? Italy's breath hitched. He and America had been friends, not super close or anything, but friends. It hurt. Still, it made Italy feel even worse to think that what he was feeling didn't even compare to Japan.

They hadn't done much investigating, but all the samples they sent for testing came back belonging to the dead nations. There wasn't an ounce of evidence left by the killers or America. It was as if he merely turned to smoke and evaporated.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and Italy jumped out of his skin. Germany also bolted awake at the noise, instantly alert.

"What was that?" he demanded.

"I-I don't know," Italy whispered fearfully. Germany instantly got up, grabbing his pistol from the nightstand and creeping to the front door. He glanced back at Italy, who had followed as far as the doorway but lingered. Without another word, Germany threw open the door and readied his gun.

However, there was nothing but empty air. Sensing no danger, Italy cautiously stood beside Germany and looked down at the porch. There resting, was an innocent scrap of paper.

"What's that?" Italy wondered aloud, bending down to pick it up.

"It looks like a note," Germany answered, peering curiously over the shorter country's shoulder.

_Who's who? Who's who?_

_Did you really think that you knew? Heh, the killers are tricky, I don't blame you. Hey, do me a favor and just think, is America America and Canada Canada? Or is America Canada and Canada America?_

_I hope you understood that. I'm not going to repeat it._

_The real Canada's back at the cave._

_Do what you want, just keep in mind that you are being watched and timed. Erase evidence and don't tell anyone of your plans._

_-21_

Italy frowned down at the note. What?

~*~-~*~

_"Hello?"_

_"Hello, Canada-san…I-it's Japan."_

_"Oh, hey. I was expecting France. He's been calling about every fifteen minutes. He's due."_

_"I…I just wanted to say thank you…for…for breaking your finger for me and that…I'm sorry."_

_"No…I'm sorry. It's my fault. Breaking my fingers was the least I could do. I knew there was something wrong, and…and I think he tried to tell me, but I didn't want…he's still my big brother, you know? I…I miss him."_

_"I do too."_

_"H-He's really gone, isn't he, Kiku?"_

_"Yes. I think he is."_

_"He still loves you, at least there's that, a-and I…I still want him to come back, as selfish as that is. Etsi, what we called our mother, always said we were twins, what's in him is in me…"_

_"But you're not him."_

_"I know. That's always been my downfall until now…. I-I'm sorry, I'm just…I just want my brother back. That…that thing wasn't him Japan! That wasn't Alfred! That wasn't my brother! He wouldn't do that! He wouldn't!"_

_"Please stop crying. I can't take anymore crying."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"I am too. Again, I called just to thank you and that I'm sorry it turned out this way."_

_"I am too, but I know for a fact he's hurting right now too. He's angry and there are dark things swarming in his mind, but the part of him that loves you is still there so…so don't be so sad, okay? He may be barely recognizable and almost gone, but that tiny part won't die no matter how much he tries to crush it. So please cheer up a little."_

_"How do you know, though?"_

_"We were once the same nation, Japan, born from the same mother, and I can feel it."_

_"…Thank you…I…I…"_

_..._

_..._

_"…I don't mind if you cry."_

~*~*~

Ukraine tiredly looked down at her younger brother's motionless form, her eyes puffy and red from crying coupled with the sheer lack of sleep she'd been getting. Russia's eyes were closed still, the plastic oxygen mask fixated over his nose and mouth. Tenderly she reached out her hand and brushed a lock of silvery blond hair from his forehead. It had gotten so long since he'd been here, often falling in his eyes. She smiled down at him, pretending he was merely asleep and that he had asked her to stay with him because he had a nightmare.

Russia had been such a sweet little boy. A klutz who meant well and cried easily. It was hard to imagine this country who now towered over her was once her sweet little Vanechka. She touched his cheek, feeling the tears gathering in her eyes. She'd sent Belarus home earlier, despite the younger girl's protests, knowing her sister needed rest.

"Vanechka, please wake up," she murmured thoughtlessly, not even aware that she had. His cheeks were so frigidly cold, and Ukraine's tired eyes swept down to his bandaged abdomen, where the death of New Russia had taken its toll.

Ukraine tiredly looked to the clock and found it to be nearly three in the morning. No wonder she felt so drained. Ukraine was about to lay her head down when from within the pockets of her overalls, her cell phone sounded. She jumped a little, still not used to having something so expensive on her person. Yet her boss insisted she carry one now that nations were vanishing and turning up dead. It wasn't a bad idea now that she thought about it. Taking it out, she pressed the talk button.

"H-Hello? This is U-Ukraine speaking."

"Hello, love. There's something I need from you."

* * *

**OH GAWD YELLOW WHADDYA WANT.**

**...Haha :3 I just love him. XD**

**Okaies, now a little info pieces~ Iceland's actually screaming in Norwegian, I think, because they didn't have Icelandic on the translator on my handy dandy ipod. ;A; So, any Norwegians out there, I'm sorry for butchering your language and if there are any mistakes tell me? ;-; Iceland's basically begging for Norway to not leave him and come back and happy stuff like that. :3**

**OH, AND REWARD FIC FOR REVIEW NO. 1,000. For Desu-chan, I'm working, I am! ;A; It's just that Lucky is a lot slower than Angel. XD Because she's very easily distracted by YouTube videos and passing butteflies...**

**So, shout-outs~**

**KelsX13****, ****EvilAnimeGoodness**(Aww, don't stop guessing, you were on a roll! :D)**, ****rae1112****, ****Teardroppe Workshoppe****, ****Kari Kurofai**(Totally understandable, if by any chance you are reading this, then thanks for everything. :))**, ****SargentPepper64****, ****nagihachan****, ****My Precious Laith****, ****Darona****, ****Tyde07****, ****ljusclara****, ****LightBender****, ****avaspongeriffic****, ****PuppetMasterPuppet****, ****ninjafox369****, justinewhitlock4eva, Canadino, ****Victoria Wan****, ****Celestial Sara**(Your long reviews are beautiful. :D)**, luffyluffy, ****xYukii****, ****Tinkeroftime****, ****dragoneian****, marmoki, ****LupinandHarry****, ****Acedia3** (Thanks for help with the Cherokee! :D)**, Geojas378, ****Arisaxx****, ****HandInTheCookieJar****, ****Reaper-Lawliet****, ****Mad-Vixxen****, ****MeganekkoTenshi****, ****Kendall N.S.****, ****WhimsicalShmoo****, ****AikoujOi****, ****The daily life of a peach****, ****Ichi Hime-Sama****, ****Bananawings72**(HAHA YOU ARE THE EPITOME OF AWESOMENESS)**, Kuragari Rya, CanadianCookie, , EmoLollipop, and~**

**VioTanequil**

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	31. The I5 Killer

The next chapter here! :D We hope to give you a dose of humor in all this heartache. Oh, and **Reaper-Lawliet's** reward fic is up entitled "Stalker" a lovely RussiaxChina piece full off humor because SLK is sucking the funny out of us D: Check it out!

Disclaimer: We don't own anything but the insanity!

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_Italy's Log January 30th__, 2013_

_Almost five months have passed since Switzerland was found stabbed and a month since America revealed himself to be a nation-killer. _

_What a hard month it has been for all of us. I've decided to try and write things down to make myself feel better, and to hopefully keep my thoughts in order. The world has never depended on me before, and I want to be strong for everyone, especially Nihon and Doitsu, who I will defend until the bitter end. _

_It's just so hard. I've been trying to be strong, but I miss Lovi so much and sometimes I think if I had just run faster, if I had just gone home instead of going to question Austria and Hungary, I would have saved him. I know it's silly, and even if I had gotten there while the killer was attacking I would have been useless and would probably be dead too. _

_It just hurts so much. No one even comprehends how much it hurts to keep going, knowing I was too late to save Lovi. God, it's like walking around with only half of myself and I don't like it, so I pray. Even though Vatican City is gone along with Rome, I still pray for everybody, even the killers because after seeing America, I have a feeling they aren't quite dead as much as they are horribly sick. _

_Germany and Japan are the ones who are keeping me strong. Besides my people, who are all scared, and my boss, who despite all the chaos supports my decision to keep looking for clues, they are my rocks. They are my best friends and to keep them safe I will find America and the other six killers and bring them to justice. _

_This month has been the toughest on Japan though. I can see it whenever someone mentions or says a bad word about America. He never snaps or stands up for him, but I can tell it bothers him when other nations make comments, particularly those in South America. It's all because of the single note. He called me in tears after he found it in the pocket of the coat he was wearing in the cave. I came over without Germany, knowing he wouldn't spare Japan's feelings when looking for evidence, and after centuries of emotional detachment, Japan needs someone to do just that.  
_

_Upon coming over, I read it. Japan couldn't bear to keep it, so I have it now. I'll copy what it says word for word, because I need the actual note for evidence, but here it is: _

_Hey Kiku, _

_If you found this, know it's too late. Please don't be sad, because it's nice to stop fighting it for once. I'm just (a tearstain smudges the ink here) sorry. (Blood was on it as well, but America had been careful not to leave fingerprints) I'm sorry for everything you had to see in the cave, but that's the thing I've become. I'm sorry. I(another tearstain)rry. Never forgive me for not being strong enough to fight it and never forgive me for being a pussy and not being able to handle a little white lie. I'm sorry for what I did to Greece. He was a good person and he didn't deserve(tears and a splash of blood omit everything here.) If you can find it in yourself, please tell Matthew I'm sorry too and that I love him, no matter what I ever did or said and that he doesn't have to pay me for winning that bet anymore. XD _

_I'm sorry, but by the time you find this, the America you knew will no longer exist. I'm just getting my last thoughts out before the end and hope that you find them. (Something was scribbled out here)_

_Goodbye,_

_The United States of America_

_Alfred F. Jones_

_P.S. I know I have no right to ask for anything, but please don't take this out on my people. They had no idea and I hurt them worst of all. _

_After I read, Japan admitted everything to me from Greece to finding Reynolds' head. This note was it though. I couldn't tell him about 21 yet, because of how upset he was, but I feel so honored that he chose to breakdown in front of me. Japan doesn't have many nations he's close to on a personal level, not even his own family, and when he chose to be vulnerable in front of me, it made me feel so special. _

_We also went to see China again. He now has to be restrained and he's plagued frequently by night terrors. It appears after his vegetative state, his mentality has degenerated to where he's having hallucinations. Needless to say, Hong Kong is running himself ragged, but a bit of good news it that Taiwan is starting to recover, though her legs are a lost cause. _

_We saw Ukraine there, and she looked terrible. Of course she relies heavily on her brother, but I was afraid she was going to keel over at any moment. I have a feeling something's been bothering her, but she's too afraid to say anything. _

_Meanwhile, America's entire government was arrested, from his boss to the Senate and Congress. Canada annexed everything and has imposed his rule on the entire area along with most nations in South America. Over the past month most of then have either been killed already by America, or are now seeking protection within his younger brother. So far as I know, Canada's accepting them all and has done his best to keep order in the nations killed, including Venezuela and Columbia. Both of them were found much in the same manner as Cuba. It's a shame because they were both beautiful women, but both had a history of hating America. _

_Canada's keeping open connections with France and England, but other than that, no one enters or leaves America's land. America's boss was put to death for genocide, as we all testified against America, and despite Mr. Bell's insistence he was not guilty, he was given a lethal injection._

_America still didn't show his face, even when his people cried out for him. Canada's doing his best, but he hasn't been lenient with them. He dissolved America's entire government. America's people, now just informed of the horrors their country committed against the nations of Cuba, Norway, Greece, Vietnam, Finland, and Japan, are too ashamed and disgusted to defend it. Most of them are more than eager to give up their American nationality, though they were all so sad. I've never heard of a nation doing that. Not only did America turn on his own people, he abandoned those that were left. It's heartbreaking, really. Especially because Japan did not show and ounce of emotion through any of this. _

_It's hard to imagine the trials only lasted from the beginning of this month until now. It was today we were finally able to tell Japan about 21. He seemed at least a bit back to normal and on his way to accepting what happened. Today we're going over to discuss it, because if what the note says is true and the Canada currently ruling over all of North America is really America, then we all might as well dig our own graves. _

_Feliciano Vargas _

* * *

"So that's it?" Japan asked, taking the small slip of paper from Italy. The three were all sitting in Germany's house, watching Prussia tend to his army of chicks through the window of the living room. However, Prussia and his antics lost their attention relatively quickly when Italy had nervously presented 21's note.

Germany gave it a scrutinizing study, and now Japan was reading it carefully. Italy watched him with worry etched unwillingly into his expression. He risked a peek at Germany, who appeared as stern as ever, not an ounce of sympathy on his face. However, Japan appeared not to notice. Ever since Vietnam's brutal death (at least from Italy's perspective) all he had felt for America appeared to be burned.

Not once had Japan expressed concern over where America could be, or what he could be doing. Also after telling them of his initial apologetic phone conversation with Canada, had distanced himself from the entire North American family. Not that Italy could blame him. America cruelly murdered his sister right before his eyes, but it made Italy sad anyway. Japan was really a kind-hearted person, and even though he had lied to America, he hadn't deserved what had transpired.

Italy's eyes guiltily fell to the three fingers wrapped in a metal brace. Japan had to go through physical torture on his and Germany's behalf, and though Italy was thankful to him, it shouldn't have happened. He knew Japan blamed himself for not being able to save Finland and Vietnam. Yet, Italy wasn't sure how to express his condolence when Japan made it very clear he didn't want to talk about it. Still, letting what happened fester by pretending it had no effect on them whatsoever seemed like a bad move too.

"Yes, apparently that's not Canada," Germany said. Italy watched Japan's brow furrow.

"I know where that cave is," he murmured, his eyes still glued on 21's note. "I've been in there before with Pochi. I don't think it was their base and I doubt they'd stay where they know we can corner and outnumber them. This 21 person even says so."

"How can you be so sure?" Germany questioned. "We don't know where the note came from or who sent it. It might be a trap."

"Canada said that he was captured at the same time the killers were moving Denmark, Vietnam, Norway, and Finland," Italy said. "Now, I couldn't get a lot out of Denmark because Iceland made it clear he didn't want me there, but from what little I was able to ask him, he said that he and the others were kept in an isolated shed for a long period of time before being moved to the cave by the other killers. It had to be for a specific reason.

"Canda also said once they were all captured, the killers came and went as they pleased. One would show up every few days or so to give them food, but other than that, they were left completely alone. All seven of them being down there at the same time was part of America's setup. He killed Norway with Denmark's ax and placed him in that spot for us to see. Meaning him walking up on us wasn't an accident."

"Meaning he was planning on killing us all in front of his...freinds regardless if you broke your fingers or not," Italy finished. "Also meaning that he spared us…" he paused uncertainly, hesitant to find out how Japan might react to this assumption, "because he still loves you." Surprisingly, Japan said nothing and simply lifted his good hand to rub his temples. Other than his fingers, he had suffered no other injuries and Italy felt even guiltier when he figured the only reason Japan was hurt at all was because of he and Germany.

There was an unsteady silence for a long time after that, Japan sitting foreword until he cradled his head in his hands.

"Kiku," Germany said, for once quieted. "If we ever do see America again…" he trailed off.

"I'll kill him," Japan hissed icily, sitting bolt upright, his eyes scarily dark. Italy gave a small whine and shrunk against Germany's side. "Because the America I knew is dead. That…that _thing_ killed my family and destroyed my capital. Regardless of how I _felt_ for him, I am still a nation and my duty is to my people. I will be sure to cut his head off, that way I _know _he'll be dead." Italy couldn't believe what he was hearing. Although he knew it was a must that they catch the killers, never once had he actually considered putting them to death.

Killing nations meant killing millions of other people, many of whom were innocent and had no idea what was going on in the world. If Japan wanted to kill America, he'd fist have to destroy Washington, which although damaged and under high scrutiny, was standing. If he didn't, there'd be no chance of him, still recovering from Tokyo's collapse, even getting a hit on America.

That also meant killing thousands, if not millions of innocent Americans. Italy always figured that if they went with the old testament of 'an eye for an eye' it would render them no better than the killers. He felt the blood drain from his face. Even Germany, who threw the world into chaos himself twice, appeared troubled. Japan seemed to realize this and continued, "Understand Germany-sama and Italy-kun, I do not show mercy to those who hurt me or my family and America is no different. He _will _die. I promise you this."

"Even if it kills a thousand more innocents?" Germany questioned. Japan's frightening stare fixated on him, completely serious.

"Yes, because a psychotic nation with his power will mean death to the world if we let him live."

"They let me live," Germany said softly. "They let you, me and Italy live. If we find these nations, killing them will get us nowhere."

"He killed Vietnam and Greece, he's the reason Taiwan is crippled in the hospital, and his friends are the reason Korea is dead and China is what many in the West would call a 'basket case'. Hong Kong is barely holding on. I have to take care of my family. America will pay for what he's done to them and…" there was a brief flicker of hurt in Japan's stony expression and he looked to the ground, "and…to me."

"But all his people have no idea," Italy argued. "And Japan, you aren't strong enough to take out Washington, not with Tokyo the way it is."

"Before we left for Hanoi, I had my boss and all SDF forces moved to a classified location. I also encouraged many of my people to evacuate Tokyo and though many stayed and were killed, I could have lost many more. I can't say much more than that, but since these killers started showing up, my SDF has grown rapidly."

"Japan, what are you thinking?" Germany asked, his voice rising. Italy was reminded of their conversation before Japan killed Reynolds.

"It's my fault that Finland, Greece and Vietnam are dead. I killed Reynolds. I got rid of the only thing that kept America in line. I have to stop him."

"You obviously aren't thinking clearly," Germany concluded. "You can't kill America, because even though he may be insane, I was at one point too, we all were."

"You and I never killed another nation though," Japan argued.

"So don't make what you just said a lie," Germany countered. "I'm not saying we should catch America then rub his feet and make him hot coco, I'm saying his death will result in the genocide of over thousands people. Innocent people. We need to keep him alive. Make him suffer, but as long as he lives."

"No!" Japan snapped. Italy flinched and latched onto Germany's arm. Germany's expression darkened, his already thin patience with Japan waning.

"Listen," he growled. "I've been letting you get away with a lot when it comes to America, but I will not stand by and watch you commit genocide!"

"He's using his people as a shield!" Japan snapped.

"And it's working, because you aren't going to kill him!" Germany snarled.

"You didn't see what I saw," the smaller nation murmured, lowering his head. "You were there too, but you didn't see the…_evil_. Even when he came to before he knocked me out…h-he was in so much pain. I can't stand to watch him suffer. The days where if he caught a cold then I caught a cold are over, but I…can't bear the thought of him hurting. Not only do I need to avenge my family, I need to avenge America, the real America, the America I," Japan grit his teeth, obviously trying to hold back before finishing with a pained, "_loved_."

"Japan," Italy began, only to cut himself off. He didn't know how to react and apparently neither did Germany, for he was silent.

"He turned on his own brother and he adores Canada-san. He told me about how they were once considered a single nation and, regardless that he was pretending to be Canada, about their mother. That…that thing we saw wasn't America because it was already killing America to start with. I just need to finish it."

"But the _innocents_," Germany said again.

"I'll have my troops force them out of Washington before destroying it. America needs to die."

"Canada won't let you," Italy spoke up. "No matter what America did, Canada won't let you lay a finger on him."

"If what this note says is true, I don't have to worry about Canada-san."

"What if the note is a trap?" Germany asked. "What if that really is Canada and America is on the run somewhere?"

"America leading us down there was the trap," Japan said. Italy suppressed the urge to flinch. The flat uncaring in his voice was nothing short of unnerving.

"Still," Germany murmured. "We can't trust a random note when we don't even know who sent it."

"Then there's only one thing to do," Japan figured. "We have to test it."

"Test it?" Germany repeated. Italy felt his heart rate pick up. From outside, Prussia was herding the sea of yellow back into the coop. "How do you suppose we do that?"

"The note says that the real Canada is back in the cave, meaning this Canada with us is America," Japan murmured, still gazing intently at the paper. "We just have to prove he's really America. Now, I know France-san can tell America and Canada-san apart, but I have my suspicions on France-san."

"But France nii-chan would never-"

"I didn't think America would either," Japan interrupted Italy. "But we all see where that went. If it turns out that this Canada is really America, we know France-san is in on it." Italy felt his eyes burn, but nodded, knowing Japan spoke the truth.

"You're right, _Nihon_. We need to get into the house."

"How do we do that?" Germany asked again. Japan frowned.

"It appears we have to spy on Canada-san."

"You mean stalk him?" Italy questioned.

"No," Japan corrected. "I mean spy. We need to follow him and look around his house. See where he goes, what he does, who he talks to, who he calls."

"So…stalk him?" Italy concluded yet again. Japan heaved a sigh.

"It appears we learned English from different sources, but the point is, if we're to trust this 21 person, we must make sure he's telling the truth, meaning we have to prove America swapped identities with Canada-san, meaning we have to get into Canada-san's house."

"Okay…how do you suppose we get into his house?" Germany asked. Japan gave a rather cruel smile, his eyes darkening. Italy looked at Germany and found with growing worry of his own that the taller nation seemed genuinely ill at ease. Japan then directed his creepy stare to the window, fixating it almost hungrily at the nation outside.

Which led them to their current predicament.

"No fucking way am I cross dressing," Prussia declared, giving them all an angry glare. "No way in fucking hell."

"Prussia-san, it's a must," Japan persisted. "You need to impersonate one of Canada-san's maids so that we may bug his phones and find any clues that he's not who he says he is." Prussia gave all three nations before him an incredulous look before his red gaze fell on Germany.

"West, you can't seriously think that their crazy scheme will work?" When Germany didn't answer, Prussia scoffed and crossed his arms stubbornly. "No."

"But Prussia-san, the fate of the world depends on this!"

"Screw the world, it's not worth dawning a gee string for!" Prussia declared.

"Gilbert, don't say things like that," Germany scolded.

"Your weirdo Asian is asking me to dress up as a damn maid and you expect me to just agree? Have you been smoking?" Germany sighed, his single blue eye closing in exasperation.

"But Prussia!" Italy began. "You have to!"

"Why the fuck does it have to be me? Why can't you do it?" he asked, directing his glare at Japan.

"Because if he is who I think he is, then he'll recognize me in a heartbeat, then we're all dead," Japan answered shortly.

"Look, I heard about what America did down there, and really I'm sorry, but Canada's my friend. I'd think I'd know if he were someone different," Prussia declared.

"Have you talked to him recently?" Japan asked.

"No, not recently," Prussia answered grudgingly. "But still, I don't see how you can confuse Matthew and ole Alfie. I mean, if you really think about it, you can tell them apart faster than it takes to blink."

"How exactly?" Italy asked uncertainly.

"Well, for starters if any one of you not awesome morons gave Canada a second thought you'd realize for one, he's much more innocent and adorable than America!" Prussia said matter-of-factly, his smirk growing arrogant as he stuck his pointer finger in the air.

"Wow, homosexual enough, Prussia?" Germany questioned.

"It is not! I just have tendencies, all men do!" Prussia snapped.

"I don't," Germany said flatly.

"Well that's because you're a prude!" Prussia declared flippantly. "Also, despite having the same hair color, Canada's is curlier than America's and it's longer. Plus he has that weird little curl thing." Prussia twirled his finger in the air in front of his forehead. "America has straight hair and his little cow lick thing goes straight back. Plus Canada's hair is parted in the middle and America's is parted to the side."

"Anyone can change their hair, Prussia-san," Japan pointed out coldly. "You haven't spoken to Canada recently, and he was the only one who wasn't unconscious when France-san and England-san found us, meaning that America might have swapped identities so he could function in plain sight." Prussia considered this for a moment.

"Still, do I _really_ have to cross dress?" he whined. "Can't I go disguised as a butler or something cool like that?"

"No, because you need to be as far from recognizable as possible," Japan explained.

"Why?"

"Because if that's not Canada-san, and he recognizes you, you'll be dead."

"Oh," Prussia said flatly before recovering. "Okay, well you bring up a convincing case, but I can still disguise myself as a man."

"No, because butlers need to be at a nation's and underling's beck and call. Maids just bring food every now and then but primarily serve as housekeepers. This is important because we need you to look for evidence that Canada-san is really America."

"Like what?" Prussia asked.

"Anything that's not Canada-like," Japan replied shortly. "I admit, I don't know Canada-san very well, but you do. You should be able to tell if he is a different person from what you've just explained to us." Prussia opened his mouth then faltered.

"What's in it for me?"

"Berlin's safety, how about that?" Germany said. "I understand this might seem strange to you, but what Japan is suggesting has merit. You have to be invisible in that house, because if not, you might very well be killed." Prussia let out a sigh.

"Alright, you got me. I saw what America did to Finland and your sister and I admit it kept me up for a few nights, not that I was scared or anything!" he added hastily. "Anyway, Canada's my friend. If America has him, then shit, I need to be awesome and I guess save the day and stuff," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "Even if it's in a gee string and panties."

"Oh hooray!" Italy exclaimed, rushing forward and hugging Prussia happily. "Now we can test the note!"

"On one condition!" Prussia declared, his smile growing smug and downright heinous.

That was how Italy, Germany, and Japan ended up in dresses of their own, sitting miserably behind a smelly dumpster with a frightened woman in her underpants tied up a little ways behind them.

Actually, scratch that. Japan and Germany were miserable, Italy was smiling cheerfully as usual, humming a happy tune while playing with the pink frills at the hem of his long skirt.

"I don't know you guys, this makes me feel sort of pretty!" he exclaimed.

"You would," Germany muttered, his legs (covered with lacy yellow stockings) self-consciously drawn up to his chest. He let out a breathy sigh, closing his remaining eye against the horror that was his attire, the large yellow ribbon on his floppy bonnet glittering even from their place in a dark alley. It was a stark contrast to his horrible scarring and black leather eye patch.

"Never before has my masculinity been so desecrated," Japan added mournfully, a cloud of dark dismay looming over him. While Germany appeared to be a war torn Little Bo Peep on steroids, Japan's dress made him look like something vomited straight out of Alice in Wonderland, complete with a scarlet bow in his hair and a stiff skirt that fanned away from his legs, which were also covered in black and white striped stockings. "Why did we allow him to take pictures and, on top of that, give him permission to use them once we start having world meetings again?"

"Because it was the only way he'd agree to dressing as a maid," Germany reminded, forehead resting on his knees, utterly ashamed. "This was your idea. Remind me, how this is supposed to work again?" Even Italy was lost on this one and watched Prussia stumble up the stoop in heels to Canada's townhouse, digging under his frilly skirt at a wedgie.

"He's not very lady like," Italy observed. "Though the wig really makes his face appear more feminine than I thought possible."

"Ah fuck me running!" Prussia snarled as he fell to his knees on the third step, the high heels causing his ankles to wobble painfully. Suddenly, his voice crackled much closer and the three nations looked to a small transmitter. "This thing working?"

"Yes, Gilbert," Germany grumbled. "Stop digging in your ass, it's not feminine!"

"Whatever," Prussia growled. They watched as the other nation reached into the front of his black and white dress and pulled out a key.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Italy wondered as Prussia disappeared inside Canada's house.

"I can hear you!" Prussia snarled.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," Germany answered simply.

* * *

If someone had told Prussia he'd be stalking around one of his good friends' houses wearing a dress and staring into the eyes of someone who clearly wasn't said friend, he would have told them to lay off the crack pipe and get a day job. Unfortunately, here he was. In a dress. Looking at someone who clearly wasn't Canada.

Prussia prided himself on being awesome, and as such, he had to know every nation, including Canada. Now, the fact he went out of his way to memorize the differences between Canada and his psycho older brother made Canada touched. So in turn it had led to them being rather close friends, and as really close friends, Prussia knew right away that the person glaring at him from across his desk was _not _Canada.

Sure he had the same face and hair, but this Canada's eyes were far too narrow, with dark rings underneath, as if he hadn't slept in days. There was no stark innocence on this face that made the biggest difference between the North American twins. This face held an expression of someone trying to restrain themselves from grabbing the nearby paperweight and beating his face in. Immediately Prussia knew the note West, Italy and the creepy Asian had been blabbing about spoke the truth.

For one if this were Canada, he'd automatically see through this stupid maid disguise, despite the fact his face was covered with about ten pounds of makeup. For another, Canada would never glare at someone so evilly. The kid was more likely to offer a person some maple syrup and a kind word. Prussia continued to stare at the other nation, doing his best to keep a nice subservient smile.

"You're not the maid," Canada's doppelganger said flatly.

"Uh…" Prussia scraped his mind. He was awesome, he could make up a good excuse. "Uh um, you see. The lady who is here usually is ill so your boss has called me instead!"

"Really? What sickness?" Prussia had to grit his teeth. The little shit was testing him and here he was standing like an idiot. In a dress. Damn he was better than this. He had to think!

"Gonorrhea," he said with a straight face. Canada, or, as Prussia really knew, America, stared at him for a moment.

"Whatever, I don't care. Just get me coffee. Black," Not Canada ordered before looking back at his paperwork. Prussia's eyes narrowed as he gave a scowl. He was about to open his mouth to tell this prick to learn some manners, but his earpiece crackled to life with West's voice.

"_Gilbert do as he says. Don't give yourself away!" _Ludwig hissed in his hear. He was like a fucking annoying conscious.

"Won't you like some maple syrup in that?" Prussia asked out of habit. Not Canada looked up, his eyes still narrowed and his mouth drawn into a scowl.

"Do I usually?"

"Of course, you put maple syrup on everything, love!" Prussia exclaimed, adding a girlish giggle for good measure. Oh, if he didn't kill himself by the time this was over he was going to be horribly surprised.

"How would you know if you're not the usual maid?"

"I've substituted here before, love! Do you not remember me?" Prussia feigned a hurt look, because being awesome required great acting skills.

"No, I don't."

"It was years ago," Prussia figured. If it were possible, Not Canada's eyes narrowed even more.

"What did you say your name was again?"

"Uh, Nancy Greenwelt!" Prussia belted out without thinking. Not Canada stared at him blankly for a moment then looked down at his work.

"Whatever. Just get my coffee," he grumbled. "No syrup today."

"Prick," Prussia muttered under his breath.

"_Prussia-san!" _the creepy Asian's voice exclaimed.

"Excuse me?" Not Canada questioned, raising his head from where he was looking at the stack of papers before him angrily. "Did you say something?"

"Uh…"

"Because if you said something," Not Canada said, standing up and moving from behind his desk. Prussia did not feel his heart beat faster as Not Canada began circling him like a snarling dog, those horrible icy blue eyes studying him. "I can always have you fired." Prussia let out a breath of relief, doing his best to make it sound girly.

"Of course not, dearie!" he assured. "I merely said I'd get on it!" Not Canada stopped and glared him.

"Alright. After you get my coffee, I don't care what you do. Just don't disturb me. I'm busy," Not Canada said shortly.

"Yes sir!" Prussia said as cheerfully as he could.

"_Bow politely!" _the creepy Asian ordered. Prussia grit his teeth but obeyed, not that Canada's look-alike was even paying attention. Which frankly was fine by him, because no one needed to watch someone so awesome stoop so low as to bow to another person who was obviously a psychopath.

Turning, he left the study and headed down the hall, and upon realizing he was safely alone, he let out a groan.

"Fuck, this gee string is chafing my balls," Prussia growled.

"_Ve, Prussia, what do you think?" _Italy asked.

"Think about what?" Prussia growled, his ankles wobbling painfully as he struggled down the stairs to Canada's kitchen in his high heels. "I can't see how women walk in these fucking things!"

"_About Canada," _Italy's voice said in his earpiece.

"You heard the shit he said, what do you think?" Prussia snarled irritably.

"_Gilbert!" _West snapped. Prussia rolled his eyes. As he passed a mirror, he grumbled murderously under his breath at the sight of the wavy blond wig topped with the incredibly stupid frilly white maid cap.

"Fine," he muttered. "Your note thing was right. That wasn't Canada." He looked over his shoulder, relieved to see he was still alone. "That guy's eyes were too narrow and you told me Canada was strangled, right?"

"_Yes," _the creepy Asian answered.

"Well, this guy didn't have any marks on his neck, but he did have the broken finger you were talking about," Prussia explained.

"_We knew that," _West said. _"There were rules to what he called a game." _

"You mean that whole finger breaking thing?" Prussia questioned, ducking into the bathroom that was a few doors before the kitchen. He was careful to shut the door and lock it. He took a deep breath, trying to collect himself.

It was like walking in a mirror world. Everything in Canada's house looked the same, but now the entire place emitted the aura of uninviting unfamiliarity. Of course Canada had seen a lot in the cave thanks to America, but Prussia knew as one of Canada's three friends (Well, two now that Cuba was dead) and one of two that actually happened to know who he was and the only one who wasn't his older brother, Canada would have called him to vent. Sure he'd been busy, but Prussia knew firsthand how easily frustrated Canada became at his invisible stature, and if that were really Canada, seeing his twin brother go completely batshit would leave him a little more than frustrated.

"_Yes, the rule was you had to break a finger for every nation in the room including yourself. I thought it was strange that Canada-san only came out with one broken finger,"_ the creepy Asian answered.

"But didn't you say America told you Canada was automatically safe?" Prussia pointed out, digging under his skirt at the infuriating underpants as he glared over his shoulder at the reflection. "Shit I have to take a piss."

_"You should have gone before we left!" _West snapped irritably.

"I didn't have to go then!" Prussia countered, tugging the pantyhose down. "Figured I might at least be somewhat comfortable before I have to get Prince Charming his fucking coffee."

_"Didn't need to hear that, Prussia-san," _the creepy Asian muttered.

"Yeah, well you're about to hear the sound of my golden fountain-_OH SHIT!" _Prussia exclaimed as his ankle finally wobbled too far to the right, causing him to topple over, his frilly skirt flying over his head. He instinctively reached up for something to grab. His hand latched onto the shower curtain and felt his teeth clamp together as his chin hit the rim of the tub and the metal pole holding the curtain up came crashing down on his head.

_"Ve! Prussia, are you okay!" _Italy cried.

_"Gilbert? Gilbert, are you alright?" _West shouted.

Prussia groaned bitterly. "Yeah. Damn heels," he grumbled, flipping the skirt back. "Holy fuck…" he murmured at what was revealed.

_"What is it, Prussia-san?" _

"_Shize_," was all Prussia could murmur. Within the bath was a huge cleaver, covered with blood. Large trails of red were pooling away from the blade, swirling down the drain.

_"Gilbert, what is it?" _West said.

"There's a huge ass cleaver draining in the tub," he said simply.

_"Are you serious?" _Italy cried.

"No, I'm lying!" Prussia snapped sarcastically. "You shitheads threw me into the fucking cabinet of Dr. Caligari."

_"Prussia-san, don't get worked up," _the creepy Asian warned. _"Just get out of there." _

An abrupt round of knocking caused Prussia to gasp roughly and hurriedly stand up on his unsteady ankles. "U-Um, yes?" he stuttered out, hurrying to the mirror and fixing the blond wig and maid cap.

"Um, Miss Greenwelt, Master Matthew is inquiring for his coffee and nowadays it isn't wise to keep him waiting," the elderly butler Prussia had met upon first entering warned.

"Uh, sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of my menstrual cycle!" Prussia shouted in his high voice. His fingers danced around his skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles and pleating a few of the more unruly bits of fabric. Since when did he know how to fix a shitty skirt? Being a girl must be rubbing off on him. That wasn't a good thing.

"Are you implying-"

"I got a bit of nasty on the toilet seat, I'll be right out!" Prussia cried frantically, grabbing the pole and shower curtain and struggling to place back in its correct position. His heeled foot, which was balancing precariously on the rim of the toilet seat, slid right into the bowl with a low _ploop_. Prussia cursed and raised his foot quickly from the terrifying liquid, shaking it out desperately.

"Um, I'll inform the master."

"Oh, thank you Fabio!" Prussia said a tad hysterically. The corner of the shower curtain dipped into the blood when Gilbert picked it back up.

"It's Watson, ma'am."

"My bad! I'll be out soon!"

There was no sound for a moment, but soon Prussia could hear Watson retreating back down the hallway, his footsteps rather hesitant. The nation made sure that he couldn't hear a single sound before he backed away slowly from the newly replaced bar and shower curtain so as not to disturb the new presence of awesomeness in its appeal. Prussia nodded happily, turning around and washing his hands, flushing the toilet for good measure.

When the nation stuck his head out the door, the hallway looked to be empty. Gilbert peered conspiratorially down both ends before waltzing out as smoothly as one could in heels and proceeded down the direction to Canada's kitchen.

"_So you found a bloody cleaver?" _Italy asked.

"Yeah, looks like ole Alfie's been busy," Gilbert muttered. "Blood looked fresh and there was a shit load of it. He was draining it in the tub. Yeah, it's safe to say that either the blood was the real Canada's or someone else's."

"_Oh, Kami." _

"_We're doomed," _West murmured.

"America rules over almost the entire western hemisphere now!" Prussia hissed. "Shit, his entire plan was to send everybody on a wild goose chase looking for him while he hides in plain sight. He's been rounding up South America like sheep to the fold, killing a few to get them to stampede, then using his the face of his sweet brother to give them the illusion of sanctuary. Conniving little shit! If he's hurt Canada, I'll fucking kill him myself!"

"_Not unless I get him first!" _Japan snarled with unusual fierceness. _"He's been playing us all for a sap! He manipulated the entire system right under our noses!" _

"You're telling me!" Prussia growled, hurrying down another hallway."Fucker is a lot smarter than anyone ever gave him credit for! I mean, no offense Japan, but he played you like a fiddle."

"…_I realize that Prussia-san, thank you." _

"Alright, I'm heading towards the kitchen so I can't chat with you ladies for long. How are those dresses by the way?"

"_My vital regions never felt so free!" _Italy exclaimed. The other two didn't bother to answer.

"Alright, it's show time!" Prussia declared as the kitchen drew near. At least he still knew how to navigate the halls. If not...well then, that would have just been a problem, wouldn't it? Getting lost in one nation's gigantic house was bad enough—getting lost in a _murderous_ nation's (who was pretending to be his darling Canada) house was ten times worse.

"_What's the plan now?" _West asked.

"Well, I have to bring him his coffee, then I'm getting the fuck out of here. I don't know about you guys, but I want to live. Alright, shut up for now! Here I go." Forcing a strained smile back on his face, he entered the kitchen.

Prussia cautiously slinked over to a table in the bustling kitchen, where chefs and maids were all converged, exchanging gossip and actually doing their jobs for once. An elder lady looked at Prussia, sniffled, and then pointed towards a coffee mug that happened to be sitting at the end of a long counter. "You're late," she snapped simply before turning back to her previous conversation with another maid.

"And your vagina is probably dustier than your mother's broom closet," Prussia muttered under his breath and grabbing the mug before scuttling quickly out of the kitchen. He needed to get out of here and fast. Despite how awesome he was, that didn't give him a force field and automatic immunity from freaking cleavers.

Hurrying through the living room, he halted when he heard a familiar voice call out behind him,

"Who?" He halted and turned in time to see Kumajirou padding up behind him, head tilted to the side curiously.

"Eh heh, no time to chat today, Kuma," Prussia said in his normal voice before turning and beginning his journey back to Canada's study.

"Gilbert." Prussia halted abruptly, his eyes wide and his lips pursed in a large O.

"Oh shit," he squeaked, whirling around abruptly and staring fearfully at the little white bear. "Ah ha ha ha!" he laughed nervously. "You must be confused, little bear, my name is…uh…" Oh shit, what had he called himself again? Oh, whatever, he was talking to an animal. "Um, some female name!" Kumajirou didn't seem convinced and uttered another too loud,

"Gilbert."

" Look Kuma, don't say anything!" Prussia pleaded.

"Gilbert!" Kumajirou repeated unhelpfully, trotting up to the disguised nation's feet and sitting down. "Gilbert!"

"Listen you albino turd!" Prussia growled. "You give me away, fucking psycho blondie up there is going to gut us both like fish!"

"Gilbert?" Kumajirou said again, tilting his head rather cutely.

"Kuma, I'm warning you!" Prussia hissed. "Do not make me bring Zwölf out!"

"Gilbert?"

"Just don't follow me!" Gilbert warned, turning and making his way up the stairs. However, he only got to the third step when he heard the persistent polar bear speak again.

"Gilbert." Prussia's eye twitched lightly before he threw a nasty glare at Canada's pet.

"I'm warning you, bear," he growled, keeping the coffee in one hand while he used the other to point dangerously at Kumajirou. "I _will_ bring Zwölf out here, and he won't be as merciful as I!" Kumajirou merely tottered up the first step and plopped down.

"Gilbert."

"That's it!" Prussia hissed, reaching into his pocket. "I'm not having my insides used as Christmas decorations because of you!" His fingers felt the soft down of Zwölf's feathers and he pulled the tiny chick out. "Alright, buddy, show this bear your namesake!" he ordered, opening his palm and letting the chick loose. Zwölf immediately sprang from his hand, spread his tiny talons and upon making contact, he started rapidly pecking Kumajirou's head.

The little polar bear reeled back in pain, but the chick didn't relent, his claws sinking into the top of the bear's ruff and his beak pounding relentlessly. Finally, Kumajirou turned and fled, and Zwölf fluffed his feathers proudly before scurrying back to Prussia and happily nesting in his pocket.

"Alright, let's do this," Prussia sighed, none too excited about returning to the freak's office. Still, he had a feeling Alfred didn't like his coffee cold, so he had to hurry, lest he be decapitated or something along those same equally not awesome lines.

"That's right, everything is going according to plan," he heard Alfred say just as he made it back to the study. Prussia halted before he made himself visible in the doorway, and merely stood by the side, listening carefully. "I killed Mexico this morning. She didn't put up much of a fight, not that she ever did when it came to me," America said cockily. Oh yeah, Matthew would never say something like that so flippantly.

"Very, good America, I'm proud of you," a distorted voice cooed. Huh, dumb ass had his conversation set to speakerphone. Prussia remained absolutely still, and turned up the sensitivity on the mic wired into the lacy collar of his dress.

"Are you three hearing this?" he whispered.

"_We hear," _Japan growled.

"You see how the path of least resistance sometimes benefits you?" the filtered voice murmured. "You now own most of the West."

"I don't, Canada does," America corrected bitterly. Prussia peeked around the door frame, and saw him sitting on Canada's desk, absentmindedly toying with the strings of the maple leaf hoodie he wore. "And it's no thanks to you assholes."

"I put that nut into a coma for you, don't complain!" the voice snapped.

"Green, I like you," America said. "You and Purple both are the only two with at least some humanity left, but Black ordered you to kill Russia, and you didn't do that. Also, let me tell you he's fucking pissed Pink didn't show herself when the rest of you did while torturing Iceland. I'd watch her if I were you, because people who piss Black off tend to die pretty quickly."

"And what about yourself?" Green countered.

"I'm on the list and I probably won't last much longer, so I'm warning you Green, you care about her like I think you care about her, tell her to give up the secrecy and reveal herself like the rest of us did."

"How long do you think you have?" Green asked, completely ignoring America's previous statement. America sighed bitterly.

"Not long. I killed someone I shouldn't have, but that's part of this fucking game he's got going. He thinks it's funny, but I stuck it to him when I did it. I'm not his lapdog and I'm not a piece on the chess board he's got set up with the world, but he'll kill me and that's fine, just so long as I accomplish what I need to accomplish."

"Which is?" Green prompted.

"I need to keep Matthew in that cave for as long as possible. Right now, Black thinks he's dead and that's how I need it to be. It's the last remotely decent thing inside me to love my brother. He's my other half and right now I'm the only thing keeping him alive. He…He was going to die from the beginning."

"You mean…?" America smiled bitterly.

"White was supposed to kill Canada first. I managed to convince Black that the Austro-Hungarian Empire was more of a threat, so he sent White to kill Switzerland instead to send them a message."

"Shit America, your cutting it close here," Green said, obviously amazed.

"My head's on the chopping block and my days are numbered," America murmured. "But I'm not going out as someone completely unrecognizable from who I was before."

"You know I hate to tell you this, but I think with Canada you might just be delaying the inevitable. We're going to kill every single nation in the world, your brother included."

"Green, Black thinks Canada is dead. The only people who know he's alive are you, me, and Purple. Now, unless you, me, or Purple decide to snitch and tell him, Canada is safe for the time being."

"Black will find out. I won't tell, but he's a lot smarter than you and he will figure it out," Green warned. With this, the old cocky grin America wore at meetings returned. He looked almost…sane for a moment.

"Give me some credit. I'm not as stupid as everyone thinks I am." Green gave a sigh.

"I guess, you've got a nice shepard's game going with South America and you've managed to hide in plain sight using your own face no less. But still…"

"Green, you worry about Pink and the fact Black is screaming for her blood. I'll worry about Canada and myself."

"What's going to happen to him when Black kills you, though?" America gave a nervous laugh, and he rubbed the back of his head, his wavy hair, styled like Canada's, falling over his face.

"I'm hoping Black won't kill me, but there's no doubt he will. When I die, I plan to leave a note for Japan telling him everything."

"After the shit you pulled in that cave, what makes you think Japan will be so willing to help you?"

"Not me, but my brother. Japan hates me, there's no doubt in my mind about that, and I don't blame him because I hate me too, but I'm praying he'll help Matthew."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Well then all this planning was for nothing and I'm fucked sideways with a spiked dildo!" America snapped. "I screwed up. I was planning on killing him and his two detective lackeys that day in the cave to appease Black, but I…" America faltered, and Prussia thought for sure he saw his cheeks redden. There was silence for a few moments.

"You still love him, don't you?"

"You're just a regular Einstein, aren't you, Green?" America asked sarcastically. "I let them all go because I couldn't do it and you're right, I love Japan. I still do and I'm starting to think that won't change. Still, if I had killed him, Italy and Germany, I probably would have tacked a few years onto my life. Enough time to figure out what I'm going to do with Canada."

"Where is Canada, anyway?" Green wondered.

"He's still in the cave, further down one of the tunnels leading south of the underground river. You need to bring him food for me later."

"Will do," Green sighed. "America, you know I care about you no matter…no matter what happens, right?"

"Yeah, I know. You and Purple are the only two that have souls left. Yellow doesn't deserve Purple if you ask me, but Purple's so stupidly in love with him. I have a feeling their little arc will be a regular Romeo and Juliet tragedy. Too bad I won't be around to see it. Sounds like a party, especially since Yellow's been sniffing around Ukraine. I wonder what that's about."

"Well, just know if this doesn't work out, you tried," Green said.

"Alright. Next time we'll talk it will be in hell my friend," America said.

"See you in hell," Green agreed before hanging up. America let out a groan and cradled his head in his hands, letting out a slow breath.

"I'm so screwed," he whispered. Prussia watched him for what felt like hours, the mug of coffee losing its warmth. "Oh, and by the way," America called out, still not looking up from where he lay hunched over himself, "I know you were listening to that entire thing and since I'm feeling so unusually generous, I'll let you have a five minute head start before I gut you like a trout."

Prussia dropped the mug, the black spilling across the blue carpet as he took off flying down the stairs.

* * *

Thank you all so much! Cross-dressing Prussia FTW? *is shot* Um, next chappie the shit hits the fan in more ways than one. We're almost done. Two more chapters until the Answer Arc! :D And then we get into Yellow!

**Okaies, here is Lucky doing the shout outs cause she's really nice and gives Angel a break like that. :)**

**Half-Blood Warrior Kitty, ****LightBender****, ****VIITheChariot****, ****hellmath****, Carito-fox, ljusclara, ****bettyhime****, ****Half-Blood Warrior Kitty****, Spazztikchick, ****Victoria Wan****, lixa **(Hahaha perhaps it would help if you went back and read a bit more, y/y? XD)**, ****Celestial Sara** (Gosp! Only ten are dead or out? D: We'll have to work harder!)**, ****Kari Kurofai****, ****Kaiamara****, ****WhimsicalShmoo****, ****RedSnowFalls****, Auburnabstraction, ****Aschenhimmel** (I worship you for listing out all the ways that the nations died. XD)**, ****Canadino****, justinewhitlock4eva, ****Cap'n Fuzzyhat****, ****Tinkeroftime****, ****HanaBibi**(Thanks for the Norwegian! 8D)**, Arisaxx, ****HandInTheCookieJar****, ****xYukii****, ****KelsX13****, RandomHetaliaFan, ****dragoneian****, ****Bananawings72**(I'd love to see that idea of a fanfic for our fanfic plz. 8D)**, ****nagihachan****, Roschian_Lorelei, ****Mad Half Hour****, ****yorune****, anonymous, ****Teardroppe Workshoppe****, ****Darona****, ****Reaper-Lawliet****, ****Kendall N.S.****, ****randomlvr1**(YOU'RE BACK! :D Hahaha aww thanks a lot, but that's probably because we write little paragraphs in each other's chappies too. XD Can you find mine in this one~? :3)**, ****Kuragari Rya****, ****LupinandHarry****, ****Carito-fox****, The Very Devoted Stalker, ****Acriym****, **(OH MAH GAWD I LOVE YOUR ICON XD)**, ****, ****The daily life of a peach****, ****CanadianCookie****, ****SoDesuKa**(Oh thank you for giving me three months I love you. T^T)**, aaaaand~**

**AikoujOi****~!**


	32. Moors Murderer

Hi peeps. Short chappie is here, but I promise, the next one is going to be LONG because it's the final chapter of Blue's arc. Then we have three or four chapters dedicated to the Answer arc. Then we get into Yellow. Hope you like!

Disclaimer: We don't own

* * *

"Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!" Prussia ranted as he scuttled to the stairs.

_"Prussia-san, what happened!?"_ Japan exclaimed.

"He fucking knows! He knew I was listening the entire time now he's going to kill me! Fuck, the things I do for you and your stupid friends, West!" He was on his way down the stairs when once again his ankle gave a twist and down he went, falling head over high heels his shoulders and spine hitting every single rut. Finally he came to a halt at the bottom of the steps, landing on his back.

_"Gilbert? Gilbert, are you alright?!"_ West cried, a touch of panic in his voice. _"Gilbert!"_

"Damn heels," Gilbert muttered, his eyes closed in agony as his head pounded. He felt a tiny pecking on his nose and cracked his eyes open to see Zwölf standing on his chin, peeping rapidly in alarm. "Easy buddy," Prussia soothed, getting to his knees and cupping the chick in his hands. However, Gilbert's eyes widened in terror when he saw America standing at the top of the stairs, a smug grin on his face. It was amazing how much he looked like Canada: the same hair and same damn face. If Prussia hadn't known any better he'd say this asshole really _was_ Canada, but he did know better.

As cliché as the soap opera plot was, this was Canada's evil twin. This bastard hurt Prussia's dear little brother and was currently putting one of his closest friends through hell. All for what? To protect him? Prussia glared up at the slowly approaching nation and got to his feet.

"I know who you are, you sick fuck!" Prussia snarled, reaching under his skirt again. Damn panties were riding up his ass crack again.

America tilted his head and let out a low laugh.

"_Gilbert, don't be stupid, get out of there, now!" _West shouted.

"You do?" America asked innocently.

"Yeah, I do!" Prussia spat. "You're a real piece of work, you know that? You turned on the only person who gave a damn about you! Everyone else wishes you were dead! Even Japan!" At this, America's arrogant smile faded and his face darkened.

"Don't mention Japan."

"Why not? Sore spot, lover boy?" Prussia goaded. "He hates you. In fact, he was ranting about wanting to kill you before I left!" He couldn't let America know he was bugged. Japan, West, and Italy had to be as far away from this as possible or America might very well kill them. Wait, no, not _might _America would kill them, no questions asked, and Prussia was too awesome to let that happen.

"Alright, Gilbert," America began, grabbing the hem of Canada's maple leaf hoodie and lifting it above his head. A white T-shirt was revealed underneath, and America tossed the article to the side. "Here's the deal. You have two seconds to take those heels off and run. After that, I'm going to chase you, then I'm going to catch you, then I'm going to kill you slowly so your precious little West will feel everything."

"Like hell you are!" Prussia shouted. "There are servants everywhere, you'd have too many witnesses." America gave another loud cackle.

"You don't think they know what's going on?" Prussia's confident expression slipped. "They've already barricaded the doors so you can't escape. Really, how stupid do you all seriously think I am that I couldn't see through your disguise? I knew it was you to begin with, Gilbert. I mean, how could I not when you take such good care of my weakling brother?"

"Canada's a lot stronger than you, you crazy fuck!" Prussia snarled. "At least he's not a pussy and kills anyone who doesn't like him! By the way, sharpen that cleaver. You'll be hacking heads for a long time because guess what, everyone hates you!"

"Oh, I plan to," America said loftily. "And as far as my motive, killing everyone who hates me just happens to be a bonus. My real motive is what you just heard me talking about with Green."

"Oh, you're so noble!" Prussia gasped sarcastically. "Your idea of protecting Canada is mentally traumatizing him then stuffing him in a cave for months!" Prussia clapped just to emphasize his mock amazement. "Good job on that one Alfred, you obese bag of bipolar hamburger grease, good job!"

"Why thank you Gilbert, you dress wearing wonder. That means a lot coming from you," America retorted.

"Touché asswhipe, but at least I didn't turn on my own blood because I'm a pansy who can't handle a little criticism." America rolled his eyes, but that annoying smirk didn't fade.

"Whatever. As for Canada being stronger than me, take a look at this." He held out his broken finger, wrapped in a metal brace just like Japan's.

"What did you do? Finger yourself too hard?"

"Do we have to get crude? No, this was from the punishment game," America explained. "Turns out Canada was too much of a baby to handle breaking one finger to spare Japan's life, so I did it for him. I couldn't bear to watch Kiku die, and Canada didn't even break it and he was already crying and begging for mercy. You should have been there, it was disgusting," he finished with a haughty sniff.

"You're the disgusting one!" Prussia shouted angrily. "Don't you dare talk lowly of Canada!"

"Well, this is a bit silly now isn't it?" America chuckled, leaning on the railing. "If you really think about it, this is just another situation where big bad America is picking on poor, sweet, little, innocent Canada! Because America is never the hero nowadays, he's a monster!" America's grin became dark and he spoke in a mock accent. "Oh gawd, we're too poor to clean our water because our government sucks so now we all shit out our intestines and piss blood. I know, let's blame America! Let's organize a group to attack him because everything is his fault because we're too stupid to figure out the problem ourselves!" America let out another round of unhinged, sadistic laughter then calmed. "Seriously, the world makes me sick nowadays, and if you ask me, it deserves to burn."

"I _didn't_ ask you," Prussia answered flatly. "Because I'm too awesome to listen to psychobabble." America giggled cruelly.

"Be that as it may, you can't escape. All the servants here are in on what you call my 'psychobabble', but don't let that discourage you from running, I like a good chase." His eyes narrowed hungrily, a glossy sheen of sadism making his blue eyes appear almost red.

"Um…you're bluffing?" Prussia declared in a slightly questioning tone, pointing a finger directly at America's stupid grinning face. America gave another condescending laugh.

"Me? Bluff? Come on Gilbo, since when does the United States of America bluff?"

"You sure bluffed during The Bay of Pigs, you asshole!"

"They were Cuban, it didn't matter," America shrugged. Prussia blinked in shock at how utterly uncaring he was. America told those people he would help them, but all he did was send them to their deaths.

"So you just watched them all march to their deaths? You just sat there and watched?"

"Mm, and liked it too. Just like how I'm watching my people squirm now. They've been spoiled for far too long. You know what the world says about them is true, they're cocky and arrogant. It's time to take them down a peg or two by reminding them that abusing their nation sends them all into turmoil."

"Abuse?" Gilbert muttered lowly. "You abandoned them when they needed you most! What kind of nation are you?"

"But I'm right here, how could I have abandoned them?" America questioned mockingly.

"Hold on, you were the one that dissolved the government…" Prussia faltered, his red eyes narrowing. "You fuck, your boss and your government were trying to stop you!" This time America was the one to clap, his eyes closing in delight.

"Very good. Should I get you a milk bone for being such a smart boy?"

"You were conspiring with Canada's boss the entire time!"

"Yuppers. He was tired of having such a wuss for a nation so he was more than happy for me to take Canada's place for awhile."

"Reynolds was just so hard on you none of this manipulation shit you've pulled could take place! So you played Japan and made him fall in love with you so he'd kill Reynolds for you!" Prussia finished with a huff. "Dude, that seriously is so not awesome! Playing with someone's feelings like that is the sickest thing anyone could do!"

"What about my feelings?" America murmured softly, looking down at his feet. Prussia opened his mouth but stopped. "I really do still love Japan, even though he hates me and I hate myself. I stopped all this when I fell in love with him. I was going to find a way to stop and maybe reveal the other killers without getting myself killed, but Japan lied to me. He lied right to my face, then he lied to me again when I called him as Canada."

"Wow…" Prussia said, genuinely awed. He reached down and removed his heels, his feet sighing in relief now they were supporting their owner's weight naturally. "You really are a whiny bitch!" He snarled, hurling one of the heels at America's head. To his delight, it made contact with a loud _thunk _and America stumbled backwards with a snarl of pain as he fell backwards on the stairs. Without a second thought, Prussia tore down the hall. His wig flew off and landed in a yellow pool on the floor, although Prussia didn't notice, panting roughly as his eyes searched for a place to hide. Finally, he came to Canada's library marked with double doors and quickly hid inside, slamming them shut behind him and bolting the locks. Thank God Canada cherished privacy.

Prussia instantly made for the furthest corner of the library. It wasn't as big as the one that used to be Ontario, but it was still decent and offered a variety of hiding places. Though no escape Prussia could see.

"_Prussia-san, you need to get out of there!" _Japan warned.

"_Yes, you don't need to do anything stupid!" _West agreed.

"Yeah, but you heard the creeper, he's barricaded the exits with his psycho servants. Shit!" he exclaimed as he heard a loud bang on the wood.

"_What happened?" _Italy asked, clearly trying to hold back tears.

"I don't know," Prussia whispered, leaning around the bookcase he'd taken shelter behind in time to see the blade of the cleaver rip through the right door like a metal shark fin. Prussia felt his frown deepen when he heard the sound of America singing.

"_On the floors of Tokyo-o, or down in London town a go-o, with the record selection, with the mirror's reflection. I'm dancing with myself!" _

"Shit, Alfie's on a rampage, I'm about to be butchered, and he's singing crappy Glee songs!"

"_Glee is not crappy, you soulless monster!" _Italy gasped in shock.

"_Where are you?" _West asked, ignoring Italy's exclamation. Another earsplitting crack rattled the doors as the cleaver punched through.

"_When there's no one else in sight, in the crowded, lonely night! Well, I waited so long for my love vibration and I'm dancing with myself!" _He finished the verse with another loud attack with the cleaver. Prussia involuntarily flinched, not that anyone ever needed to know that.

"In Canada's library." He looked around fretfully. The library was pretty much the same. Books were scattered everywhere, the older ones dog eared and frayed from use. Prussia was aware that both twins liked to read, despite how stupid America made himself out to be, and felt a twinge of longing to see Canada again.

"_I'm, dancing with myself! I'm, dancing with myself! Well there's nothing to lose, and there's nothing to prove and I'll be dancing with myself!" _

Jeeze, how could Canada put up with having such a freaky twin for so long? His singing was becoming less sweet and far more deranged as the double doors splintered with every attack.

"_If I looked all over the world, and there's every type of girl, but your empty eyes seem to pass me by and leave me dancing with myself!" _

"Shit, he's almost through!" Prussia growled when he saw the terrifying blue of America's creepy eyes, huge and dark-rimmed, through the growing jagged holes in the door.

"_So let's sink another drink, 'cause it'll give me time to think! If I had the chance, I'd ask the world to dance, and I'd be dancing with myself!"_

"_Find a window to jump out of!" _Italy cried. Prussia scanned the walls, but all he saw was dark red all paper and a few portraits of some of Canada's favorite former bosses.

"_Oh, dancing with myself! Oh, dancing with myself! Oh, there's nothing to lose and there's nothing to prove, and I'll be dancing with myself!" _

"There is no window!" Prussia snarled irritably. Another loud splintering sound caused Prussia to curse bitterly.

"_Oh, dancing with myself! Oh, dancing with myself! Oh, there's nothing to lose and there's nothing to prove, and I'll be dancing with myself!" _

"He's fucking singing! This is a damn game to him!" The abused doors gave another shuttering bang, and flew apart from each other like broken wings. America stalked through slowly, almost teasingly, his mouth twisted in a moony sneer.

"_So let's sink another drink, 'cause it'll give me time to think!" _America hissed like a viper, his agonizingly slow, stalking footsteps taking him to the bookcase furthest to the right. _"If I had a chance, I'd ask the world to dance," _the grainy hiss of the blade being lightly dragged across the spines of Canada's books made Prussia cringe, "_and I'll be dancing with myself, I'll be dancing with myself,"_ his voice dropped to a low, snarling whisper. _"So let's sink another drink, 'cause it'll give me time to think…" _America's voice trailed off.

There was silence for a few moments and Prussia covered his mouth and nose to quiet his breathing. His pursuer had stopped singing and was no longer dragging the cleaver across anything, meaning there was nothing but absolute silence. Prussia could practically feel the other nation straining his ears for the slightest disturbance.

The room became utterly still as if holding its breath. Prussia didn't dare move, but that was just because he was awesome. He wasn't scared. Not one bit.

However, all thoughts of how _not _utterly terrified he was halted when he saw a golden air duct. "I think I can escape!" he shouted a bit too loudly. Realizing his folly, he let out a weak, "Oh crap."

Prussia's eyes widened as he saw a flash out of the corner of his eye. He ducked immediately and rolled over on his back in time to see the cleaver embedded in the side of the bookcase, a still-grinning America staring at him hungrily.

"_Oh, dancing with myself! Oh, dancing with myself! Well there's nothing to lose and there's nothing to prove and I'm dancing with myself!" _America finished slowly, yanking the cleaver out of the wood with no trouble. Prussia recalled West talking about how Blue could cut through a nation's body with a single swing and felt his heart race, the blood roaring through his ears.

He stared into America's soulless blue eyes, which were alight with sick pleasure. America reminded him of a little boy who had been chasing after a puppy and was delighted to have finally cornered it. Well, last he checked, Prussia was no puppy, and he growled, stood back up, and braced himself for what he was about to do.

"I'll give you something to dance with!" he yelled, making for the other side of the bookcase and throwing all of his weight and strength into the side. America's grin faded into a look of terror and he tried to scramble out of the way. However, he wasn't quick enough and let out a shriek of pain and rage as the huge bookcase toppled on top of him, pinning him to the floor from the waist down. He snarled angrily, the cleaver still in hand as he swung it blindly, absolutely irate. He let out another inhuman scream, his eyes now blazing as the cleaver whistled and pounded into the floor mercilessly.

Prussia didn't hang around to admire his quick thinking, knowing it wouldn't keep America down for long. Instead of heading for the air duct, he turned on his heel and bolted out the same way he came in, the doors hanging splintered and broken on the hinges.

"_Prussia-san, where are you?" _Japan asked fearfully. "_What happened?" _

"I pushed a bookcase on top of him, but that's not going to hold him for long," Prussia answered. "I pissed him off. This isn't a game anymore, it's personal." He found the front door, and without thinking tried to open it. The knob didn't even budge. He tried unlocking it, but everything on the door was apparently frozen in place and there was not a single servant in sight. No doubt they didn't want to be around to witness the inevitable bloodbath or become victims themselves. Prussia let out a scream through clenched teeth and slammed his fists against it. "Damn, he wasn't bluffing. I can't leave through a door," Prussia panted out, turning again and taking off down another hall.

"_What are you doing?" _West demanded.

"I'm going to the kitchen for a knife," Prussia said, happily rid of the heels, though the long skirt wasn't helping matters much. He looked over his shoulder, relieved to find no one chasing him. Once he got to the kitchen, he instantly dove for the drawers behind the center isle. Tearing one open, he was shocked to find it utterly empty. "Fuck!" he spat. "Shit, there's got to be one around here somewhere!" He went around the entire counter, opening drawers and cabinets with feverish speed. Every single one of them was empty. Not even a pot or a pan offered itself for a shield.

"_Can you not find one?" _Italy asked.

"No, they're everywhere!" Prussia snarled facetiously. "I'm just having a hard time choosing the right color! Tell me Italy, pink or blue?"

_"Well, I don't know. Pink is--"_

"Of course I can't find one, you idiot!" Prussia interrupted. He continued his feverish searching, the nasty tentacles of panic already creeping in from the back of his mind. He had to keep his head, he had to keep it cool. Nearly ready to scream out loud and give up, he wretched open a single drawer by the large meat freezer and gasped as he finally struck gold.

Yet it wasn't a knife he found.

It was a gun. Fully loaded and ready to use.

Prussia felt something close to relief wash over him as he picked up the weapon. On the handle a small note was attached, and Prussia read it quickly.

_Figured you needed a little help and that the first place you'd look for a weapon would be the kitchen._

_Good luck getting out alive, you're going to need it._

- 21

Prussia didn't have time to contemplate the warning when he heard America's horrible laughter behind him, coupled with the grating sound of the cleaver blade being dragged across the linoleum tiles. He whirled around immediately and saw America stalking towards him, hunched forward slightly with his head cocked lightly to the right in a very predatory fashion. He wasn't smiling despite the previous laugh. His body was rigid, and his eyes were tiny chips of ice.

"You really pissed me off," America said lowly. Prussia glared back at him, removing the safety behind his back.

"It obviously didn't kill you, like I hoped," Prussia replied. America sidestepped around the island counter, his face growing even more dangerous.

"I've had enough of chasing you. It's time to incapacitate you until I can have the other killers get rid of Berlin." However, before he could take another pace forward, Prussia revealed his weapon.

"Alright, don't you move a muscle. I'm pissed, my balls feel like there's sandpaper between them, and I am not going to let the world lose something so awesome!" To his utter shock, America merely raised his hands, the cleaver dropping to the floor as he began to laugh. It was a sick grating laugh that left Prussia's eardrums aching. His evil blue eyes closed in apparent delight, though he kept his hands in the air.

"Alright, game's over! I lost!" America cackled. Prussia's eyes narrowed, and he didn't lower his gun. "You figured it all out! Though I'm surprised it was you and not Italy and his two lapdogs."

"Wait, wait, wait," Prussia said, his brows knitted in a tight frown. "You expect me to believe you're giving up this easily?" America's laughter died down.

"Well, because of my act of mercy in the cave, Berlin wasn't destroyed, meaning you're still immortal, and from everything I've done with South America, I don't have the resources to destroy it right this second. Also, I find myself without a gun, and between a bullet and Mr. Cleaver, a bullet would win. So you, believe it or not, have the upper hand. So, I give up, you win!" America declared a bit too cheerfully. Prussia relaxed a little, but still didn't lower the gun, not that he was going to. Ever.

"_Prussia, what's happening?" _Italy asked. _"Are you okay? What's going on? Is he really giving up?" _

"Yeah, looks like it," Prussia answered before addressing America again. "Alright dick, we're going back to that damn cave and you're going to show us where you've been keeping Canada." America's horrid grin still didn't fade and he gave a nod.

"Of course. Loser has to show the winner the treasure am I right, Prussia?"

"This isn't a game you damn sadist, these are people's lives you're fucking around with!"

"Oh ho, such talk coming from Russia's former toy," America laughed.

"Don't make me blow a hole in your face," Prussia warned lowly. "You're coming with me and then you're leading us to your brother."

"Fine!" America declared.

"You're really pissing me off, shit face!" Prussia growled. "You have something planned don't you?"

"You caught me on the phone with one of my peers and now you have a gun on me. What could I possibly have planned?"

"We're leaving!" Prussia hissed lowly, cautiously approaching the other nation and pressing the gun to his forehead. It was tempting to pull the trigger and knock America into a coma equal to Russia's, but he needed to find Canada first. "Turn around," he ordered. To his surprise and slight disappointment, America obeyed, hands still in the air. "I'm taking this freaky thing too." Prussia hurriedly bent down and grabbed the cleaver, surprised by how heavy it was, but too awesome to let the sudden weight topple him over.

"So where do you want me to go?" America asked innocently.

"I want out the front door," Prussia answered. "Walk forward and don't try anything funny or so help me I will make Zwölf peck your eyes out!"

"Fine," America said simply. Figuring it was safe to speak to his three dictators now that their killer was captured, he held the mic close to his mouth. "Alright guys, I'm coming out with America. Get ready."

"_Hold on, you're coming out with him?" _Italy asked, sounding bewildered and slightly frightened.

"_Please do Prussia-san, there's something I need to check," _Japan said softly.

"_Please don't do anything stupid," _West pleaded for what felt like the thousandth time.

"I won't but this dirt bag needs to lead us to Canada, and that's exactly what he's going to do," Prussia declared, prodding America in the back so he'd step forward. He kept the cleaver as far away from himself as possible, the blade still a dull pink around the sharp edge. They walked in silence, though Prussia knew America was still smiling. He was up to something, he knew that much, but the need to find Canada was greater. Plus, what could he do with a gun against his back? Prussia wasn't a pansy. If he needed to shoot someone, he'd shoot without contemplating the cost.

Finally, after wandering down the hall for awhile, still utterly empty of servants or maids they came to the front door, Prussia previously attempted to exit. "Open it," Prussia directed, prodding the other nation in the back. America obeyed, reaching to the side of the door and pressing down on a piece of the frame. With a small hiss, the tiny piece of wood flipped over, revealing a keypad. America wordlessly punched in a combination and the door's lock gave a click. Prussia still couldn't see his face and it made him horribly anxious.

Without waiting for Prussia's next order, America opened the door and stepped out onto the stoop. Prussia followed closely behind, keeping the cleaver ready should America try and grab his gun. He might not have been entirely skilled in using it, but it was an extra weapon nonetheless.

Immediately, West, Italy, and Japan emerged from their hiding place behind the dumpster and (much to Prussia's annoyance) were no longer wearing their dresses. Well, Italy was, but then again Italy was weird anyway so that kind of thing wasn't surprising coming from him.

However, Italy's flowing pink attire didn't keep Prussia's attention for long. No, it was the look on Japan's face when his eyes found America. The two nations came down to the front step and waited for the approach of the others.

"Hey," America said loftily when Japan stopped before him. Japan merely stared at him, his expression unreadable.

"Ve, _Nihon_," Italy murmured softly, reaching out and touching his friend's shoulder. Japan didn't react, his eyes still locked onto America's. Prussia moved to the side a bit so he could see the other nation's face. America's was equally unreadable.

Suddenly, Japan reached forward, his expression still completely blank. At first Prussia thought Japan was making to touch America's face, but was surprised when he instead went for the collar of America's white T-shirt. Prussia, confused, looked to West for an answer, but found his younger brother's expression a mirror of his own.

They all watched silently as Japan's fingers hooked around the collar of the shirt and pulled it down to the left. From there, expression finally did leak into Japan's features. His eyes cringed into slits and his lips grew taunt and angry. Prussia looked down at the exposed flesh and found there to be a scar. It was a burn scar that spanned, red and dry, from the center of America's collarbone all the way to his left armpit. Japan pulled his hand away slowly, his enraged brown eyes now glaring at the old wound as if it had done him some horrible crime in the past.

"Were you still in denial?" America asked softly. As soon as America uttered the first syllable, Japan went from enraged to downright demented, and before anyone could even take a second breath, Japan's fist collided with America's cheek.

Prussia gasped at how quickly the action took place, while Italy gave a startled yelp, clinging to Germany in terror at how_…frightening_ Japan appeared. America fell to the ground on his side before rolling over on his back. His eyes were hooded and dull, his light blond hair splayed in a halo around his now battered face. Japan's punch had opened a gash on the side of his rapidly swelling cheek.

"You bastard," Japan hissed. America turned his head slowly to look at where Japan stood quaking with poorly suppressed rage. Prussia could only stare, not even holding the gun up anymore. From what he knew of Japan, he was rather shy and very soft-spoken around those he didn't know well. Although Prussia was aware of all the violence Japan had caused over the years, never had he seen the other nation look so horribly pissed. Hell, he hadn't even seen Russia this pissed. Ever.

America's mouth twisted into a smirk, the imminent danger flying right over his head.

"Hey, what's it like to be lied to?" he inquired, his voice barely above a whisper. Something unhitched behind Japan's fiery brown eyes. Prussia could only compare it to a wrench being thrown in the greater machine and the effect made the smallest nation appear even more hostile.

"Shut up!" he spat out.

"You didn't want to believe you could contribute to someone ending up like this, could you?" America asked softly from his place on the ground. His eyes were empty, but his smirk only seemed to grow despite his injury.

"I'll kill you, I swear. I hate you."

"Because this is all your fault." They were the last words America uttered as Japan gave an inhuman shriek of rage, and before Prussia could react, he found the cleaver being ripped from his grasp.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" Japan shrieked repeatedly, raising the blade above his head with both hands, the metal braces on his three broken fingers shining in the sun. America didn't react as Japan loomed over him with murderous ambition.

"Kiku, no!" West shouted, lunging forward and grabbing Japan's arms just as he began to bring the cleaver down. Japan struggled and flailed wildly like an animal in a trap, struggling further when Italy rushed into the fray and hugged Japan around the middle.

"_Nihon_, enough! No killing! We need him to show us where Canada is!"

"He needs to die!" Japan yelled. "He's worthless! He's disgusting! I hate him! I hate him!" Prussia thought about joining Italy and West's struggle to restrain the rabid Asian, but he knew someone needed to keep the gun pointed at America. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Japan gave up his struggle and dropped the cleaver. It clattered onto the street and the only sounds became Japan's laborious breaths brought forth by his previous effort, his face now pained instead of angry.

America merely stared blankly at them all, no longer smirking, his face blank. He turned his head until he was looking at the sky.

"If you were all smart, you would have let him do it," he said softly. His eyes grew desolate and the finger in the brace twitched a bit. "Unfortunately, none of you are smart." America closed his eyes and let out a resounding laugh that was beyond joyous and psychotic. It filled the air completely like rushing water to the shore, loud and grating and completely unrestrained. It was the hysterical laugh of someone who had seen a ghost and couldn't be more tickled about it.

"You poor sick fuck," was all Prussia could murmur.

* * *

Alright, next chapter is psychotic as all hell. I'm warning you guys now. It's not so much gore as it is mind fucking, but it's going to be a lot of action and explanation. Thank you all for sticking with us this long despite the insanity. This story currently has a billion chapters, and though Lucky and I know how it will end, it's going to take a lot of toiling to get there. And hopefully as Blue's arc ends next chapter, after he explains himself in the answer, you will be compelled to read Lucky's entrance into the freaky ass mind of Yellow and all the misery and torment he causes to everyone around him.

Shout outs:

**bettyhime**(we love you! And we love our Italy too),** Victoria Wan, Sageleisa, Celestial Sara** (You are so awesome not even Gilbert's five meters compare), **dragoneian, CanadianCookie, LupinandHarry, Canadino, hellmath** (Look at her list if you guys are confused about everyone's status), **Neko-san, , Elegant Spira**l (Your delurking for us is a great honor that we cherish immensely), **darandomninja** (You are randomlvr1's friend? That automatically makes you a goddess! Plus your review made us squeal), **GuiltlessLie, EmoLollipop, Half-Blood Warrior Kitty, LightBender, Kuragari Rya, xYukii, VIITheChariot, Awesomeness-with-a-taco, ninjafox369, Teardroppe Workshoppe** (YOU RULE!), **Black-Yami-Cat, Aschenhimmel** (Prussia's pain is amusing XD),** Owlstar7, justinewhitlock4eva, WhimsicalShmoo** (If you're right, then you get a cookie! :D), **Angry Panda Dance **(thank you for catching my typing fail before anyone else did *shifty eyes*),** silvermoonbutterfly, The daily life of a peach, AikoujOi, nagihachan, Reaper-Lawliet** (Glad you liked your fic!), **the e t e r n a l -STORY**, and...

**marmoki** (First again! You are on a roll! And everyone read her story "ANTI" it's really good!


	33. Final Blind Chapter: Blue III

**Ello, guys, don't run me over. XD**

**This chappie was written by Angel, but is being posted by Lucky because the aforementioned doll was too lazy to post this. XD I'm gonna try and hurry this up, since my computer is bitching right now.**

**Thanks goes out to the lovely Tonya, who's our new beta~**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

To say the plane ride had been hell was an understatement. Italy, finding nothing to do that wouldn't annoy his comrades, was left focusing on breathing in the thick air. Japan was constantly fidgeting, his eyes darting to where America sat next to Prussia, his own gaze fixated out the window, his face surprisingly bored. Italy bit his lower lip in worry at the lack of anxiety America expressed. Usually when a criminal was caught, they became at the very least agitated, but America seemed perfectly at ease with a gun to his head and a murderous Japan casting dirty looks his way.

"So who are the other killers?" Germany had asked.

"That I can't tell you," America answered simply. "You've only won my game, not theirs."

"France can tell you and Canada apart, though," Prussia pointed out. "He didn't say anything about you switching, so he has to be in on it."

"Mm, he's not," America said. "I changed the differences between us, and believe it or not, I can act just like Canada when I want to. France isn't part of this, so don't point a finger at him."

"Like we're going to trust you," Prussia muttered.

"You don't have to believe me, but if you go after France, you'll be wasting your time," America said before turning to gaze out the window again.

It had all been strained for hours; no one willing to speak or move. Even Prussia, who was always so vibrant and ready to crack a perverted joke to break up tension, was silent. He had changed back into his uniform declaring he would never wear a dress again and that the next time they needed a maid they could sign up Poland.

The walk had been equally tense, enough to make Italy nearly lose his mind, and strangely enough, crave a good bowl of comfort pasta. Norway's body had long since been removed, and the remains of Japan's house were now covered in snow, making them strangely misplaced white mountains.

Now they stood before the cave, Germany and Prussia flanking America, and keeping the gun trained on his head. Everyone besides the captured killer was wearing a thick coat, and even so, the frigid winter air leaked into any opening it could find, making the patch of bear skin between Italy's glove and sleeve grow numb.

"You pull anything batshit in there, I'm blowing your head off," Prussia warned.

"Same here," Germany added. Japan glared at all three of them. He and Italy hadn't been given guns: Italy, because he'd more likely end up shooting himself or someone else, and Japan, because trusting him with a gun at the moment was comparable to trusting a rather mean spirited child with a magnifying glass not to burn a colony of helpless ants.

"You don't have to worry!" America assured, his voice light and even amused. "I said you won, now I'm going to show you Canada."

The trio walked forward. Japan and Italy took out their flashlights and shined them ahead as they entered the uninviting darkness.

Italy cast a cautious glance at Japan and found himself, for the first time ever, frightened of him. Italy knew he wasn't incredibly brave to begin with, but never had he been so utterly terrified. And it was of _Japan_ of all people. He was careful not to trip, knowing Germany needed to help his brother keep America in control, and, frankly, not wanting to be any closer to Japan than he had to be.

It wasn't that he was angry, or that he felt Japan might actually hurt him, but that horrible, subtle terror was still clinging to the back of his mind. It told him, that if he did fall and use Japan for balance, he was better off falling.

They came to the main torture chamber, where France and England first found them. Italy gave a gasp when he saw fresh blood leading away down the tunnel. The roaring of the river greeted them like a noisy dog barking at an intruder as they trekked on. America kept a decent pace as they followed the blood trails down the passage until they met with the gray rapids of the river. Much to Italy's dismay, they didn't head towards the beautiful waterfall, but towards the dark end of the cave.

"I had Purple and Green dump some nations in here earlier," America explained casually above the dull rumbling. Italy glanced nervously at Japan and found the other nation still tense and angry.

"How long until we get there?" Prussia asked.

"Awhile; I couldn't have any investigators finding him," America answered. Italy felt his hair grow damp with the rising mist and shivered, wanting nothing more than to run to Germany's side and cling to him for warmth. However, he knew he had to be strong. He had to endure and not get in the way.

In truth, the walk was long; America leading them down several twisted tunnels that always ended up back at a different part of the river. They traveled by its bank for what felt like several hours before turning down another passage. The river's sounds were always present, like a sleeping monster's drawn out snores. Italy kept his flashlight steadily pointed ahead, though the slight quivering of the beam gave hint to his true fear.

Finally, this passage ended, and as Italy expected, they were by the river again. He was extremely careful not to fall, knowing one slip would send him careening down the water's pathway back to the waterfall.

"Canada's right there," America said softly, pointing forward. Italy and Japan shone their lights in the direction of America's finger. Sure enough, lying tied up by the wall of the cave, was Canada.

Prussia jabbed America with his gun in order to make him walk faster while Japan merely ghosted by and kneeled before the other nation. Italy followed closely, and felt his heart beat away erratically in his chest at seeing Canada so close.

His hair was styled like America's, his blue eyes hooded and dull with tearstains down his face and his mouth open slightly. He was wearing the exact same attire as America, with a white shirt and jeans. He didn't react as the other nations approached. Italy thought, for one fearful second that they were too late, and he was dead.

"Canada-san," Japan said, reaching out and touching his shoulder. Italy let out a breath of relief when he saw Canada's empty eyes shift so they were looking at Japan and life flow back into him.

"J-Japan," he rasped.

"It's okay, Canada-san. It's over, we're going to get you out of here," Japan said. Germany appeared beside them and took out his knife, reaching behind Canada's back and cutting the bindings around his wrists and ankles. Canada shifted, and he grimaced with pain as he brought his arms in front of himself. Japan and Germany leaned forward and helped him into a sitting position.

"Oh my God," was all Italy could murmur when he saw Canada's swollen and discolored pinky. "You broke a finger for Japan, meaning America broke a finger for you."

"H-How did you find me?" Canada asked, tenderly rubbing his wrists to get the circulation flowing again. He bit back a cry as he accidentally brushed his injury.

"We've captured America," Germany answered. "We forced him to lead us to you."

"You captured…_America_?" Canada asked in obvious disbelief. Suddenly, Germany and Japan were thrust apart as Prussia dove between them to force Canada into a rather painful-looking embrace.

"Damn, Matthew! Your brother is a crazy fuck, but don't worry we're going to get you out of here!"

"Get me…out of here?" Canada repeated breathily as Prussia strangled him. Prussia pulled back and looked at him, for once his face full of concern rather than cocky arrogance. Italy was touched, glad to see Prussia was more than just a brash foil to Germany's calm and sometimes intense character.

"Yeah, I dressed as a fucking maid to come find you! That's how awesome of a friend I am!" Canada blinked, apparently somewhat confused. Prussia gently lifted his hand and examined the broken finger. "Oh, Matthew don't worry. We'll get you fixed up. America is caught so it's all going to be okay."

"But if you captured him, w-where is he?" Canada questioned fearfully. Automatically, the four turned and shined their flashlights to see that America had indeed vanished, most likely into one of the many tunnels interwoven throughout the cave. Also, upon turning their attention to the ground, the great cleaver was missing as well.

"Gilbert, you idiot! You were supposed to be watching him!" Germany yelled, smacking his brother in the back of his head.

"Ow!" Prussia yelped, rubbing the injury. "So were you!" he pointed out defensively. "And he was just staring at the ground so I thought it would be okay to turn my back for a few seconds to see if Matthew was alright!" However, instead of quell the flow of anger, his explanation only seemed to intensify it, for he earned another smack on the head. Only this time it was from Japan.

"How stupid are you?" he added.

"I'm not!" Prussia snapped. Italy merely shook his head. Leaving a prisoner unattended sounded like something he would do. "Whatever, let's just get out of here before he comes back." However, when they turned back around, they found Canada had vanished as well. Only a bare chunk of moist cave wall remained. "Holy fuck, what are they, Siegfried and Roy?"

Suddenly, there was a shifting noise from behind, then coupled with the cry of, "Matthew, no!" The next thing Italy knew, someone fell on top of him and he was pinned to the ground, the cool slimy rocks digging into this chest and stomach through his coat.

"Alfred, what the hell is wrong with you!?"

"Not yet, stupid, we need them!" Italy felt the person on top of him force their arms around his chest and pin his arms to his sides as they spoke.

"For what? You're bleeding!"

"Yeah, what did you think would happen if you sliced me with a cleaver? Sparkly rainbows would come out? We need them alive for now or else the other nations will start looking for them! And I'm sure they told a lot of people where they were going! We need to move them first; then take care of them." Italy was suddenly being lifted and he looked to see Germany, Japan, and Prussia frozen with shock as the nation who shielded him dragged him away.

"W-What's going on?" he whined. His three friends merely gaped helplessly.

"You're being betrayed," another voice said simply. Italy turned his head to see America standing there, his wavy hair slightly damp from the river mist. Wait, just before he was hit…

"You never switched places," he realized aloud. The person who they initially thought was America gave a cheeky grin.

"That's right," the one they thought was Canada agreed.

"The reason I told you not to go after France," the initial America began, "was because you're right, he can tell us apart no matter what we do. That should have been a tip off right away when you sent Gilbert to search my house and found all that nasty evidence. You see, the reason France doesn't know anything is because, I'm Canada…"

"And I'm America," the nation holding Italy finished. Italy looked back to the other three and found their faces were pale and in utter shock. That meant the nation Gilbert went undercover for, who bragged about killing Mexico to Green, and the nation that led them here wasn't America, but Canada. That also meant the nation they found tied up a few moments ago wasn't Canada. That was America.

Italy looked down as he felt one of America's arms remove itself from his chest. His heart rate grew rapid and his lungs constricted with terror as America reached into the back of his pants. To his utter horror, the mocking glare of a metal pistol was revealed from Japan's flashlight, and Italy choked back a stifling scream, already feeling tears well up in his eyes.

"You both were involved!" Prussia shouted accusingly. "You're both killers!"

"Correct!" Canada exclaimed cheerfully. Italy was horribly reminded of the chipper voice America used just before blowing Vietnam's brains out.

"I should have known," Prussia murmured. "I should have known after the way your comebacks sucked! America can dish them out!" His angry expression faded into a look of sadness. "But seriously Matt, how could you? How could you kill all those people?" Italy carefully turned his head in time to see Canada shrug, his eyebrows raised and the same smirk he gave Japan curled on his lips.

"I'm guess I'm just not the innocent little maple leaf everybody thinks I am!"

"And you, America!" Germany continued in his brother's place. "What's wrong with you! You preach to us all about helping others and being a hero, but all those nations in this cave! How could you?"

"Because I hate all of you!" America snapped. Italy craned his neck around to see America's face twisted with rage. "You all hate me no matter what I do! I get attacked then try to defend myself, and all of you fancy fucks in Europe accuse me of trying to take over the world! And my people are ungrateful slobs who won't get off their fat asses and help me! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of doing everything for everyone else and getting slammed for it! I hate you!" America ranted. Italy gave a small gasp as America's arm tightened around him. If America squeezed any tighter his ribs were going to collapse against his lungs.

Surprisingly, Canada came to his rescue, approaching from the side and gently touching America's face. His own blue eyes were soft and calming.

"Shh, bro," he murmured. "You're going to crush Italy at this rate. We'll punish them, don't worry." America's arm loosened a bit and Italy let out a rough gasp, coughing roughly. Yet, not a moment later he stiffened and felt his breath halt on its own accord when the cool metal of the gun's barrel jammed painfully against his head.

"I never thought that about you," Japan whispered, his uninjured hand tight around the handle of the flashlight. His look of shock had shifted into one of fury.

"Which is why you're still alive," Canada answered for his brother. "I admit, I wanted to kill you, but Alfred pleaded for your life every time." Italy felt America shift uncomfortably.

"Wait, if you're Canada what about your scar?" Japan demanded. "Canada's on the right! America's was on the left!"

"See, that's where you're wrong. Though we didn't switch places for this little act or the act before in this very cave when Alfred killed poor Finland and Vietnam, in my brother's attempts to woo you, I had to step in and help."

"So before we went to Beijing after China was attacked, that was you!" Japan yelled.

"Of course, though don't worry, America was the one with you in China and he was the one who gave you all that sappy advice about giving him the benefit of the doubt."

"Damn you both!" Japan spat. Italy felt America go rigid at Japan's exclamation.

"Germany, Prussia, drop your guns or Italy dies," he said flatly. America was much less expressive than Canada, who appeared as if he could easily dawn a tutu and perform a ballet of happiness at the events unfolding.

"No way, fuck face!" Prussia answered, pointing his gun straight at America. However, he was stopped when Germany's hand clamped down on his wrists, thus forcing him to lower the weapon. "West?"

"Do as he says," Germany answered shortly, putting his own gun on the ground and thrusting it at the North American twins' feet. Canada bent down and retrieved it, then looked expectantly at Prussia.

"Come on Gilbert, don't be mad. Survival of the fittest, right?" he teased. Prussia obviously didn't share the sentiment, as he gave Canada an irate glare.

"And to think I used to brag about how innocent and adorable you were," he muttered.

"My finger is starting to itch," America prompted, his voice utterly expressionless. Italy felt the first stab of panic rip through his mind like a bullet and let out a pleading whimper.

"Gilbert, please," Germany whispered, his head lowered.

"B-But…" Prussia attempted to argue, then growled and looked at Italy. Prussia sighed as he studied the terrified nation in America's death grip. His red eyes narrowed and he gave an annoyed huff. "Whatever, when they blow our brains out, I'm going to kick your ass, West. Hard." He grudgingly lowered his weapon and let it slide across the ground where Canada triumphantly fetched it.

"Well now that, that's taken care of, let's--" he was cut off as America gave a low painful groan. Italy felt his arm loosen and his entire body tremble.

"Matthew, you hit me pretty hard with that thing," America panted. "I'm starting to feel dizzy." Canada turned, unimpressed with his older brother's stamina. Italy looked down, and sure enough there were a few steady dribbles of blood plopping onto the cave floor and running steadily down America's shivering legs.

"You're the immortal one here, not me. You'll be fine. Plus it's your fault for jumping on Italy in the first place."

"I…I…" America began, but his voice cut off into sharp panting. "My hands are falling asleep and I feel like I'm going to puke." Canada rolled his eyes. America's trembling increased and the next thing Italy knew was that the other nation's arms slipped away and released him. Italy glanced over his shoulder and found that America had fallen to the side, a pool of blood coagulating in the cave floor's many moist dents and grooves.

"Shit!" Canada snarled. Italy took the opportunity to bolt straight into Germany's arms, where he began crying softly. He really thought he was going to die. Germany merely wrapped his arms around him and patted the back of his head soothingly. "Looks like it's up to me," Canada muttered, placing the cleaver he was holding on the ground next to the unconscious America and plucking the gun from his limp grasp.

He held both weapons up and pointed them at the four before him, no longer smiling. "Well, since America isn't up to spare your lives, I'm just going to have to take care of you myself. The river should take care of your bodies, and no one will look for you this deep. They'll get lost." With that, Canada pulled the hammer back, caulking the weapon.

Japan glared at him. He hated both of them. America and Canada had been working together the entire time, and they were too stupid to figure it out. No, he hadn't been stupid. He'd been in denial. America played him and his brother helped. It was flat out enraging.

Canada was still talking, but Japan wasn't paying attention. All he could think about was rushing forward, grabbing the cleaver, and decapitating both psychotic nations with it. He remembered, with a burning hatred in his gut, how he would have done it if Germany and Italy hadn't stopped him. If only he hadn't given up. They might not be here if he fought harder and killed Canada before he led them here again.

Japan turned his gaze from Canada's face, to look down at America's unconscious form. However, he felt his eyes widen in shock when he realized America was staring at him. Yet it wasn't a corpse's blank, lifeless stare. No, his eyes were full and alert. He wasn't unconscious at all. Instead, he was slowly and silently reaching for the cleaver's handle.

Without thinking, Japan's mouth opened instinctively. He wasn't sure what he was going to say, but stopped himself when America's eyes grew panicked, and he placed a finger over his lips, shaking his head wildly.

"Were you about to say something, Japan?" Canada asked, pointing one of the guns at the Asian's chest. Japan, not wanting to give America away for some unknown reason merely stared heatedly back up at Canada.

"I was about to say kill me first because I'm sick of listening to you ramble!" he snapped. Canada's brows furrowed, but in contradiction to this, his mouth twisted into an evil grin.

"I'd be happy to," he laughed. Japan grit his teeth as Canada's fingers tightened on the trigger. Silently, America's fingers found the handle of the blade and he dragged it closer, the melodic roar of the river behind them disguising the sharp grating, before he rose to his feet, knees trembling.

"Well then pull the trigger!" Japan snapped.

"Japan, what are you doing?" Germany demanded. Italy pushed further into his chest, sobbing softly.

"Do you really have a death wish?" Prussia added. "In case you forgot, you're not immortal anymore!"

"I know," Japan murmured, his own smile forcing its way onto his lips as America turned and faced Canada's back, raising the cleaver above his head.

"Why are you smiling?" Canada demanded, suddenly angry. "You think this is funny and I'm not actually going to shoot you? Guess again!" However, as soon as he pulled the trigger, America's eyes flashed and the blade came down on Canada's back.

Canada gave a shriek of pain and fell forward, the gun letting out a loud bang. The last thing Japan saw was a stream of crimson before Prussia tackled him to the side with a loud cry of,

"Watch out!"

Japan grunted as he hit the ground and struggled beneath Prussia to stare at America and Canada. Thankfully, Prussia removed himself quickly as he too was astounded by what had just taken place.

Canada had not fallen, but he was absolutely irate in a hunched over position, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth and the blade still embedded in his back. America's hands were on the handle, his face dark and almost crazed.

"America!" Canada shrieked as blood dripped around his quaking legs.

"You killed my kids, you sick fuck!" he snarled, twisting the blade cruelly. Canada gave another shriek of agony, but refused to crumble to his knees as America obviously wanted.

"You ungrateful shit, you're supposed to be my brother!" Canada shouted.

"My brother's dead," America hissed, sinking the cleaver in deeper, "_remember?" _Canada gave a feral growl, stood up abruptly and whirled around, yanking the handle out of America's grip and dislodging the weapon completely. It clattered hollowly to the ground, covered with scarlet.

"I'm going to kill you!" Canada shrieked, lunging at his brother and tackling him. America gave a yell and forced Canada onto his back, straddling him. "Don't you get it? If you don't do this you'll be killed, dumb ass!"

"Then let me die!" America yelled back. "I'm not a killer like you, _Blue!" _At this, Canada's eyes blazed with rage and he let out an unhinged scream of fury, delivering a smack to America's face with the butt of one of the pistols. The older twin fell to the side with a yelp and Canada surged upwards to get on top of him. America, seeing him approach, threw his arms up, and wrapped his fingers around his brother's neck, leaving Canada rasping in his attempts to claw him with the barrels of the guns.

America turned his head and bit down hard on Canada's right wrist, causing him to give another scream and drop the gun.

"You stupid fuck! You were supposed to play along!" Canada bellowed, raising the remaining pistol above his head. However, before he could bring it down, America brought his leg up and kneed his attacker in the gut.

"I'm not going to let you hurt them! I'm not going to just sit here and beg anymore!" America shouted. Canada hunched and wheezed, but with a new bout of rage, he straightened just as America was attempting to crawl away and began his slow advance.

"That's funny, because as I recall, you were always nothing but a crybaby!" he snarled as he approached.

"We were young! Things have changed!" America retorted.

"Well, Al," Canada began, readying himself for another assault now that he'd recovered, "England's not here to save you now, and I bet by the end of this, you'll revert back!"

"So you think!" America replied sharply. With that, the two brothers lunged, colliding in midair and attacking with unhinged fury.

Japan watched the entire fight with horror along with the three other nations. So Canada was really Blue. That meant everything that happened in the cave: Vietnam and Finland's murders, his own torture; that was all Canada's doing. Then that meant Canada was the one who killed Cuba, Greece and Norway. Canada had been the mastermind, not America! Upon coming to this conclusion, Japan let out a ragged gasp.

"_Nihon, are you sure this is right? To attack Washington?" _

"_Trust me Kurosaki-sama, America is a killer nation. We have to destroy him." _

Japan suddenly felt sick. America wasn't a killer. He'd been foolish to doubt him. He knew in his heart it couldn't be true. He knew from the moment Germany and Italy placed the evidence, which was most likely staged, that America couldn't be capable of killing one of his own kind. Canada had manipulated them both. With a growing sense of dread he tore his eyes away from the North American brothers' continuously moving death brawl and set his eyes on the abandoned pistol.

He looked at the others to make sure their attention was still on the fight. Italy was trembling in Germany's arms with his face hidden, while Germany and Prussia's eyes were locked on the struggle getting dangerously close to the river. Canada suddenly grabbed hold of America's broken pinky and twisted it back, an insane cackle filling the chamber as his brother gave an agonized scream.

"I'll teach you to betray your own blood, you arrogant son of a bitch!"

"We're from the same mother, dumb shit!" America panted out, before throwing another punch and catching Canada on the left side of his jaw.

Without a second thought, Japan sprinted from his place by the wall, grabbed the gun and pointed it at the twins, prepared to shoot Canada.

"Japan! What are you thinking!" he heard Germany shout.

"Ve, Japan, come back!" Italy wailed. "You'll be killed!"

"Don't be a hero! You're not like the magical cat girls on your cartoons!" Prussia added. Japan halted and looked back over his shoulder at Prussia to give him a strange look.

"_What?" _he asked incredulously.

"You know, the sparkly magical cat girls, and the one chick that wears the sailor outfit and fights with the moon or something! You're not like them, so get your skinny Asian ass back here, or they'll fucking kill you!" Prussia shouted. "Canada may act like a weakling but he almost killed me back at his house. If America loses, he's going to kill you!"

"I don't plan on letting that happen," Japan growled, turning back to where Canada and America were throwing each other about, their arms and legs flailing.

Japan hesitated. The fight had intensified. Anything went, as they bit and punched each other, kicking, scratching and tearing at each other's hair. The twin with the gun brought it down on top of the other's head just as he latched onto his brother's arm with an unmerciful bite. Yet, this wasn't why Japan couldn't pull the trigger…

Their fists pummeled each other's faces and blood splattered every which way from the deep wounds on their backs. Grunts and occasional screams of fury filled the tunnel.

"Japan!" Italy called desperately. "Please come back!" Japan lowered the gun in frustration.

He couldn't tell them apart.

Both nations before him were bloody, and the mist from the river dampened their hair and clothes. It also didn't help that they were wearing the exact same thing. The twin on the bottom was now being strangled, gasping and scratching helplessly at his brother's wrists. When the other's fingers only tightened, he reached his hand out and grasped a nearby stone. He brought it up and slammed it into the side of his brother's head, causing his opponent's glasses to fly off. In his disorientation the twin on top dropped the gun, and fell to the side.

The twin on the bottom then picked up the gun and placed himself above the other, jamming the barrel into the side of the pinned nation's head. The bested country craned his neck back and locked eyes with Japan.

"Kiku! I'm America! Shoot him!" he cried. "Shoot him or he's going to kill me!" The nation holding the gun glanced up as well, his eyes wide with shock when he spotted the Japan and the pistol. "Hurry, kill him! Kill him or he's going to kill me!" The twin on top gave a deep snarl.

"He's lying, Kiku! I'm America! Shoot him!" he shouted angrily.

"I'm America! Please Kiku, help me," he pleaded. "You won't let him kill me, right? You won't let me die. Please help." He went so far as to reach out a hand. Japan felt frozen. He didn't know what to do or how to tell them apart. He suddenly wished France were here, he'd make this situation so much easier.

"Come on Kiku, since when am I this pathetic?!" the twin with the gun shouted. "He's a lying murderer! Shoot him!"

"Kiku, don't let him fool you again. Hurry and pull the trigger so we can be rid of him and we can be happy." Japan looked from one brother to the other and still saw no differences. Even their fingers proved unhelpful as Canada's brace had fallen off in the fight, and it was too dark to see properly.

"Alright, that's it, I'm tired of this," the twin pinning the other snarled, caulking the gun. However, just before he pulled the trigger, his body became rigid, and his eyes went wide. He gave a few choked gasps before tumbling over, writhing in apparent agony, screaming bloody murder.

Japan felt his heart spasm painfully behind his ribs, and his throat clench with dread when he realized his troops had reached Washington. The nation previously pinned gave a low and horrible chuckle, slowly getting to his feet.

"Well, that little side plan worked out perfectly," he cackled, staring down cockily at his brother. America gave another low scream, his body convulsing and twisting painfully. "You should know better than to betray me, Alfred. I've always been one step ahead of you, eh?" His only answer was another scream, America's back arching off the floor before it fell painfully again. Tears were rolling down his face as his neck twisted side to side and his legs curled and straightened rigidly. A puddle of blood was already forming around him from the cleaver's cut.

Japan felt his eyes burn as he watched America scream and writhe painfully. He had done this without thinking it through. Germany told him it was wrong. Italy even told him, and this was what happened. Canada threw him a condescending smirk before clapping. "Bravo Japan! Perfect timing!" Japan realized with both fury and shame that he had just been manipulated again. "I knew I had to ruffle your feathers to get you to want to kill Alfred! Then I had to time it perfectly in case my precious big brother decided to betray me, which he did. Stupid idiot. You were never that smart, Alfred," Canada chided, going to his brother's side and removing the gun from his weak grasp. He then pointed it at the helpless America's head.

Japan instantly pulled the trigger to his own gun. His mouth fell open in shock when all that emitted from the weapon was a hollow clicking. It was empty. Canada gave another laugh.

"Oh come on now!" he exclaimed. "Did you really think I'd be so stupid as to give my brother, who was ready to betray me at any given moment, a loaded gun?" He raised an eyebrow as Japan cursed bitterly and tossed the useless weapon to the side. "Really, I'm insulted you underestimate me so!"

"S-So it was just you that did the killing?" Italy cried out. "A-And America was the one who really disappeared the day Japan got the call from Toronto when we were leaving Hanoi?"

"That's right," Canada said. "That wasn't America who called him. No, that was me on the phone. Also that bugged cell phone you found which brought you to the conclusion I disappeared three weeks prior to that call was set up to frame America. That's why I went into isolation."

"And the America we picked up in Toronto?" Italy added.

"That was me too." Japan suddenly remembered the blood on his hand when he had touched America's face. Washington hadn't been destroyed, but the America that day had been battered and bleeding as if it had.

"Then my sister and Finland?" Japan asked, somewhat dreading the answer.

"Me," Canada said with no hesitation. Japan bit his lower lip against the tide of fury rising within him.

"So America didn't kill anyone?" Germany demanded. Japan was surprised to hear the interrogative tone Germany was using despite the situation.

"Not one person," Canada confirmed. "I did it all."

"Canada, you evil little fuck!" Prussia hollered. "I thought we were friends! What the hell happened to you?" Canada stood above America, no longer smiling. America continued to squirm, another scream grating the expansive walls of the cave and momentarily overpowering the noise of the river then cutting off into sharper gasps. His blue eyes were dazed as they rolled in their sockets, sweat, water and blood coating his skin.

"A lot of things you wouldn't understand," Canada finally answered softly after a moment of studying his tormented brother. He looked at Prussia briefly.

"Matthew this isn't you!" Prussia shouted. "What happened to the sweet kid that used to make me pancakes every time I came over? What happened to the country who used to listen to all the reasons why I'm awesome?" If Japan didn't know better, he'd think Prussia's voice was shaking. "What happened to my best friend?" Canada blinked slowly, his eyes horribly empty.

"He's dead," he replied, voice monotone. He returned his attention to his brother, still gasping and twitching on the ground. "I have no choice. It's either you die this way, Alfred, or Black's going to find you and make it worse. I tried my best to save you, despite all the trouble you've caused me over the years, but I guess you just don't want to be saved if it corrupts your morality. I'm not condescending you, that's always what I looked up to in you, bro." His smile grew almost sad for a moment. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Yet, just as he pulled the trigger, Japan rushed forward, the world turning red. The same emotions that overtook him as he watched Korea die all came back in a flood. He wasn't going to let anyone else die. He wasn't going to lose America again. Without a rational thought in his head, he threw everything he had into Canada, tackling him just as the gun went off.

"Japan!" he heard Italy shriek hysterically.

"You crazy little bastard! I told you, you aren't like those damn cat girls with the super powers!" Prussia hollered. Japan didn't hear any of this as Canada gave a horrified yelp, and they both tumbled backwards. Japan felt a sudden pain in his left shoulder, but ignored it as he and his opponent hit the river. It was absolutely freezing, his lungs shriveling behind his ribcage. It felt as if a thousand knives had pierced his flesh, but he grasped Canada roughly as the current forcibly pushed them away with fierce strength.

He couldn't see anything for a brief moment. White and gray were the only colors. There were no shapes or any sense of control. There was nothing familiar in the dark murky expanse and never before had he felt so utterly powerless. He could barely determine where Canada was, but he clung tightly to the other nation's shirt as they were rolled and tossed about beneath the surface. His lungs were screaming for air, burning as his mouth opened uselessly. He had to remember he wasn't immortal anymore. He may have just sacrificed his life.

Then, as if by a miracle, his head broke the raging surface and he gasped roughly, coughing up streams of water. Canada came up next to him, breathing harshly as well, his eyes fiery and angry.

"Japan!" he heard America's voice scream shrilly. Japan looked toward the banks and saw him running after them, clutching his side in agony as he struggled to keep up with the river's rapid flow. Prussia, Germany and Italy were running after him; Italy with tears down his face, Prussia with horror, and Germany with controlled rage.

His coat took on water, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his head above the rapids, his lungs taking in a combination of air and liquid that made him cough horribly. The roaring was assaulting his eardrums as he kicked and flailed his arms wildly to at least keep his chin up.

"Kiku, Matthew, keep your heads above the water!" America screamed. Japan's heart leapt to his throat as he remembered Canada was behind him, and gasped as a pair of hands came down on his shoulders and forced him below the surface. "Matthew, no!" was the last thing he heard before he went under. Strangely, it was quieter beneath the current, but that didn't mean it was safe.

He clawed, panicked, at Canada's wrists. Canada didn't relinquish his hold though, and out of sheer desperation for air, Japan turned his head and bit down hard on the other country's hand. Immediately, the pressure lifted and Japan shot up to the surface gasping and coughing before turning around and delivering an unsteady slap to Canada's face.

The other nation's head jerked, and he gave another scream before lunging forward in the water and grasping Japan's neck roughly. With growing horror, Japan saw a stream of crimson floating around both their forms like a rusty cloud and was reminded again of the pain in his left shoulder.

_You were shot_, Korea answered his unspoken question. _The bullet ricocheted_. Japan gagged as Canada attempted to force him underwater again, but he thought quickly and latched onto his attacker's broken pointer finger, twisting it desperately. Canada screamed in agony and released his potential victim, flashing a look of pure hatred before lunging at him again and forcing his head under.

Japan's lungs automatically filled with water and he kicked his leg upwards, hitting Canada in the gut and causing him to float upwards. Japan, along with being battered by the rapids, was beginning to feel woozy. His stomach hurt and his eyelids were growing heavy. Japan fought upwards and broke the surface again. He was becoming exhausted rapidly, his clothes weighing him down.

Looking around, he saw a rock jutting out of the rushing, bubbling surface, and with the last ounce of strength he possessed, he lunged forward and grabbed hold of the slippery gray stone. The water shoved against his body painfully, but he held on, despite three useless fingers still in their braces. He coughed roughly, as water attempted to rush down his windpipe as he gasped for air. His shoulder was positively searing now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

"Kiku, hold on!" Italy wailed. He, Germany and Prussia had stopped, but America was still racing ahead. Confused, Japan followed him with his eyes and realized with growing dread Canada was nowhere to be seen. After Japan had kicked him, they'd been separated. His fingers slipped a bit on the rock as a peculiarly strong current slammed into him. He let out a cry as his wound was jostled.

"He's bleeding!" Prussia shouted. Japan could barely hear them over the sound of the river.

"Kiku!" Italy suddenly shrieked, his voice laced with panic. Japan turned his attention upstream and was met with Canada's face exploding out of the water, twisted with deranged fury, his blond hair soaked. His blue eyes were bright with feverish insanity and before he even fully threw himself on top of the other nation, Japan had let go of the rock and was thrust backwards with the current, water washing up his nose and mouth, making his sinuses explode with fire. Canada was still on top of him, attempting to gauge his eyes out with his clawing fingers. Japan reached upwards with his good hand, pain exploding from the jarring of his shoulder, and scratched Canada across what the thought was his face.

Canada relented his attack, and once again, Japan struggled for the surface. It was harder now as he was barely able to keep his eyes above the water. Panic overtook him as the sensation of drowning became the most prevalent feeling. He thrashed wildly, taking in more water than air.

"Think porpoise Japan!" he faintly heard Prussia yell. "Fish is your main diet! Harvest their energy!" Japan, through the murky panic, wondered exactly _how _Prussia could manage to be so stupid at a time like this.

"Japan, look out!" Germany's voice warned. Japan managed to maneuver himself around in time to see Canada attack again, three red lines running down from his left eye and across his nose from where Japan had scratched him. This time however, Canada didn't settle for just dunking him underwater, but outright punched him dead in the face.

Japan managed to avoid the worst of the punch, but it still clipped his ear and sent it ringing pain shooting all the way to his eardrum. He was thankful. A direct punch from one of the North American brothers was enough to knock someone's head clean off their shoulders. If Japan had his immortal status, this wouldn't be a worry, but he wasn't immortal now. He was as vulnerable as a human.

"Matthew, stop it!" he heard someone shout from behind him. Wait. Behind him? Japan struggled to turn and was shocked to see a sort of overhanging stone ledge. It expanded out into the center of the river before cutting off, forming a lip that protruded several feet above the rapids.

Though the ledge itself wasn't what caught Japan's attention, it was America, who was standing on top of it. His eyes were terrified, his face bloody and pale as he got onto his knees and held out his hands over the dangerously slippery edge. "Grab my hands!" he shouted.

He was approaching fast, and for once, Canada forgot about his attempts to murder Japan and flung his good hand out to latch onto his brother's. Japan was next and grabbed the other, wincing as he felt the bloated heat of America's broken pinky.

America bit his lip and looked over his shoulder. Japan followed his line of sight and saw Germany, Italy, and Prussia were still too far away. America looked back down at them and attempted to pull them up, bringing one foot under himself before he slipped, nearly toppling into the water himself.

"F-Fuck!" he shouted helplessly to the ceiling. He grit his teeth and looked helplessly down at his brother then at Japan. Japan noticed with growing dread that America was starting to slide. He wasn't strong enough to pull them both up. Not to mention he had to be in an unspeakable amount of pain from the cleaver wound and his capital's destruction.

Canada suddenly shouted something in a strange language Japan didn't recognize. It wasn't French, nor did it sound remotely similar to anything he had ever heard before. America's stared distraught down at Canada's face before replying in the same tongue, shaking his head.

Canada yelled again, his eyes blazing as he glared at Japan briefly before directing his heated stare back at America, who was shaking his head, tears welling in his eyes. Japan wanted to say something, but found his head growing light and the exhaustion settle over him. He lost too much blood and was dangerously close to passing out.

"Alfred!" Canada screamed. "Pull me up you useless crybaby!" America let out a shaky breath, his tears spilling over.

"You're not Matthew."

"Yes I am you dumb fuck! Who the hell do you think I am?!" Canada shouted angrily.

"I don't know," America whimpered softly. "I don't even recognize you anymore. You said yourself my brother was dead and I'm starting to believe you." Canada gave a frustrated growl, but Japan saw his expression change from its previous insanity to a pleading look.

"You don't understand!" Canada wailed. "You never understand anything! We're twins and you don't even care about me enough to listen how your bull-headed actions affect me! You never appreciate me, you ignore me unless you need something, and you bully me, but I'm trying to save you anyway because we're family and I love you!" America's body quaked, his toes now hanging precariously over the lip of the ledge.

"I love you too," America whispered shakily, tears mingling with the spray from the angry river. "I love you so, so much Matthew, you don't even know."

"Then help me, bro," Canada prompted gently.

"This is all my fault," America murmured, lowering his head and letting out a choked sob. "I did this. I'm Blue too. I made you this way because I was selfish. I was selfish and I treated you like dirt and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Matthew."

"Then make it up to me and pull me up!" Canada shrieked, his uncharacteristic rage returning with passion. "For once be the hero you pretend to be instead of the whining dimwit you are!" America flinched.

Japan still remained silent, his eyes growing heavy as he barely clung to consciousness.

"I-I can't!" America wailed.

"Why not?!" Canada demanded shrilly. America gave another cry and tried to heave them both up again, only to fail with a grunt of pain.

"Because," he began tearfully, "I'm not strong enough to pull you both up." Canada's eyes widened with shock as America's grip loosened.

"Alfred, don't do this!" he wailed. The strange language returned, bubbling out of Canada's mouth in a frenzied panic. America dully answered, and with a look of pure agony, released him. The next thing Japan knew, Canada was gone, replaced by gushing water.

Japan was fading out as he felt America's other hand grasp his wrist and pull him roughly out of the water. He was dragged briefly across the cold wet ledge and still felt the rapids biting into him, even as America's warm arms cradled him gently.

"Kiku, Kiku, can you hear me?" America asked. It sounded like he was talking through a funnel. Japan merely let out a steady breath and reached his hand up to touch the other nation's face. This was America. This was his America. The tips of his fingers brushed the other nation's cheek tenderly.

However, America didn't seem to notice Japan's attempt, his eyes growing wide as he removed one hand from the smaller nation's left shoulder and found it covered with blood. "Oh, my God," America mouthed, staring at his fingers.

Japan was aware of three other faces approaching from behind.

"He was shot," America said, his voice strained.

"Oh," a very blurry Italy cried weakly, placing a hand over his mouth and latching onto what Japan assumed was Germany's arm. The only clear thing was America's face, but it was becoming hard to keep his arm up so he let it drop to his chest.

"You crazy Asians scare the crap out of me sometimes," Prussia sighed. Germany came and crouched next to America.

"He won't last much longer and neither will you. You both need to go to the hospital."

"No shit Sherlock!" Prussia exclaimed unhelpfully. Germany glared over his shoulder at his older brother, who instanly gulped and hid behind Italy. Japan opened his mouth, but he couldn't find the strength to speak. America noticed and cupped his face with a trembling hand.

"Shh, it's all going to be okay Japan, it's over. Don't talk, okay? Save your strength and go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up, I promise." Japan, so tired and waterlogged, didn't make a reply. America's hand on his cheek was so warm and comforting and at last, knowing everyone was safe, he let his eyelids close and turned his face into America's chest, passing out cold.

* * *

_Italy's Log February 29th, 2013_

_Time seems to fly after something big happens, and again, almost a month has passed since my last entry. I'm not sure what to say about myself, since nothing has really changed for me, but to those around me some definite differences are shining through. _

_After the cave, we took America and Japan to the hospital. They both lost a lot of blood, and because of their capitals being destroyed, there was a huge chance they would die. America pulled through first, and he wouldn't leave Japan's bedside until he woke up. I had been standing in the doorway, watching my friend silently. America was asleep too, so I didn't want to disturb him with my entrance. Knowing me, I would have tripped on something anyway. _

_Japan had been unconscious for several days but that day he woke up, and when he became aware America was there like he promised in the cave, it was the happiest I've seen him, ever. Of course, America began apologizing for things that weren't his fault, but Japan merely kissed him softly and then burst into tears, his own string of "I'm sorrys" filling the room as he held America close. _

_I left after that to give them their privacy and to see what mine and Germany's people found about Canada. _

_From the river they recovered Vietnam's remains and 39 of America's 50 states. They also found Mexico and several other South American countries. They have yet to find Canada's body. _

_Ever since then, America hasn't been the same. Though he's healed for the most part from his physical wounds, he suffered deep emotional scarring I'm not sure even he can recover from. He's given up his seat in NATO and every other world organization in favor of forced isolation._

_Also, he can no longer look at his reflection, for every time he does, he's overcome with a panic attack. He's become paranoid and easily angered. Upon first returning to the other nations, he startled easy and whenever Canada was brought up, he snapped at whoever spoke the name to shut up or die._

_A few days after Japan woke up in the hospital, Germany and England had to pull him off of Saudi Arabia, who's only crime was moving too quickly. However, America's newfound aggression wasn't what sealed the deal to his decision to become a recluse. No, the breaking point was when France mournfully mentioned Canada to England. America exploded at him, screaming how Canada was going to come back and finish the job by killing them all. Needless to say, this upset France even more, but America didn't stop. He kept ranting, throwing himself into another laborious panic attack. _

_Finally England could take no more of France's wailing and stood up, slapping America hard across the face, and bringing him out of his tirade. America, after overcoming the initial shock, crumbled to his knees and wept. France, despite their bitter relationship before the killers started their reign, carefully knelt before him and pulled him into a warm hug. He was completely understanding, which only seemed to make America's mental deterioration worse instead of relieve it, for it was after this incident he pursued isolation. _

_England of course insulted him and called him stupid as usual when he presented the idea a week later, but where previously America would playfully retort back, he now broke down at the front of the table. In horror, England attempted to comfort him, but America fled the room before giving him the chance. He never set foot in the meeting room again after that. _

_Despite all the trauma he obviously suffered at his younger twin's hands, he refuses to speak about what Canada did to him during the time he was in the cave. Germany and Prussia say it's his pride, but I know it's fear. Fear that Canada will come back if he tells. Japan believes he's suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and upon light research, I have to agree. The only thing is, I'm not sure even Japan can help him. _

_He's cut off ties with every nation excluding England and Japan, who go to his house regularly. Yet, with every report Japan brings Germany and I, the news seems more grim rather than hopeful._

_America is now terrified of everything that moves, including the other nations. France of course wishes to see him, but America made it clear he never wants France to see his face again. According to Japan, he blames himself for everything._

_The fact there is no body makes me wonder if America's fear isn't misplaced. _

_Japan went to see China again for the second time since his first visit with America last year, and told him everything. China never once responded, his wrists still restrained, but I have a feeling Japan just wanted someone to listen rather than give him advice. _

_Though Japan still checks in with us, we've been seeing a lot less of him recently, because he's always with America, who doesn't like to be alone. _

_If Japan goes somewhere, America is always with him. Japan doesn't mind. He doesn't want to be alone either. _

_On a lighter note, Taiwan was released from the hospital, but she's now in a wheelchair, with no hope of recovering the ability to walk. Still, she's in good spirits and that's been rubbing off on Hong Kong, who desperately needed a pick-me-up. _

_Also Prussia, claiming Germany needs his older brother to look out for him, is joining us on our quest to find the killers…Well, at least it's going to be more lively. _

_Still, I wonder how Canada managed to pull this all off. America won't tell and Japan refuses to let Germany and I question him. It's an intriguing thing to think about as much as it is terrifying. Why did Canada lose his mind like that? What were his motives? What did he do to America that changed him so much? How did he get mixed up with the killers? How long was he planning this? How? Why? _

_I guess the only answers lie with him. _

_Feliciano Vargas _

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**Let me get through shout-outs before any announcements. XD**

**Crazylilchickie, O'WiseUn, SpazztikXpRiDe18, Tichki, marialeiah, Verocat, Teardroppe Workshoppe, randomlvr1, Art And The Akatsuki, Victoria Wan, Master of the Opera, EvilAnimeGoodness, WhimsicalShmoo, dragoneian, VIITheChariot, LightBender, Animeamv, The daily life of a peach, spocketlaine, justinewhitlock4eva, Celestial Sara, CanadianCookie, LupinandHarry, Kari Kurofai, Canadino, bettyhime, nagihachan, Black-Yami-Cat, hellmath, AntonioAndRomano4Ever, bombayxprodigy, rae1112, xYukii, ninjafox369, Half-Blood Warrior Kitty, Kuragari Rya, aaaaaaaaaaaand~**

**AikoujOi!**

**Okay, and just a little run down for anyone who didn't understand this chapter--basically, Canada was Blue all along. Why did America play along, though? ...:) Well you can find that out next chapter, which would be Blue's Answer~ The answer arc isn't gonna be too long though, so you won't have to wait long before Yellow gets to screw around with everything that you believed in. :)**

**Reviews please~ Let Angel know how much you liked this arc :)**


	34. Eye Opening Chapter: Demon Twins I

Hey guys, Angel here with a bit of rough news. This isn't betaed because Tonya is ill, and I wouldn't have posted it until she was able to beta it, but I'm not good at the moment (I'll spare you the details) and so I wanted to give you guys at least the first part of the answer. I'll try to write the others, but I can't promise anything so here's this to hold you over and it should be betaed soon so sorry for any mistakes.

BUT! on a lighter note, welcome to the first Seven Little Killers Answer Arc, which Lucky and I have lovingly named Eye Opening Chapters! Here you get the why and the how to the killer's motive. This should only be like, four chappies at most and Lucky is already working on Yellow's arc, so right after this you'll get SUPAH MIND FUCKED. But until then, enjoy!

Oh, and I suggest you take notes. We'll go through the story, but it's better you take notes on all the OTHER clues Canada gives away.

**WARNING**: Confusing as shit, but whoever figures it out this chapter without having to wait for Canada to explain the rest gets ten points and a COOKIE!

**Disclaimer: We own nothing**

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Alfred and I are identical twins. We're exactly the same from our hair to our eyes. However, we couldn't be more different on the inside. Alfred is loud and kind of obnoxious and I'm just invisible. That's right.

Invisible.

I've noticed that in most cases the younger twin usually is the one to get repeatedly screwed over. In nature, if an animal that usually gives birth to one baby is gifted with twins, it either kills the younger one or just abandons it to starve or be eaten.

In ancient times, when heirs to the family or throne were all the rage, if twins were born, the younger one was either strangled or treated as a burden and social outcast. Yes, younger twins are usually graced with bad luck depending on where you're from, and I guess twin nations aren't so different.

I've always been overshadowed by my brother, but before we were separated it never really bothered me. In fact, my invisibility was something I wasn't even aware of. We were simply two halves of the same whole.

We were taken from each other when we were still young, but after France let me go, and later being reunited with my older brother under England, Alfred forgot me completely.

"You have my face," was all he said before losing interest and asking England for food. After that, Alfred and I were never as close as we once were. My brother wanted freedom and rebelled, and I was dubbed as the 'good son' for staying with England. It hurt to know and still know that a lot of tension and problems between them sprouted from me. At one point, I could clearly tell Alfred resented me and my relationship with our older brother.

The distance that came between us, that's where the darkness inside of me began, where it grew and eventually fueled my decision to accept Black's offer to become a killer. I assure myself it started out as a completely pure and good intention, but remembering Finland's bloodied hair and the hole in Vietnam's head, I can't be sure. I'm not sure of anything anymore.

Even now as I just try to keep my head above the screaming river, choking up the cold water as it forces its way into my lungs, I still want to protect my idiot of a brother. Even though it has come to me gasping for air and clawing for the surface of an unforgiving death trap, I would have done it all the same.

I can still see Alfred as he pulls Japan onto the ledge. Japan is limp and the bandages around his broken fingers are sopping wet and loose. I can see the spreading splotch of red on Japan's back, seeping into the white of his coat where he was shot after attacking me. Alfred pulls him into his arms and tucks his head under his chin, shivering.

I hope Japan is dead because I wouldn't wish this fate on anyone else. I may have gotten my wish, for he's not moving and Alfred is tenderly cradling him like a fragile little doll.

Still, I guess that doesn't matter. Alfred let go of my hand to save Japan and I can't believe it. He looked at both of us, tears streaming down his face and hair stuck to his bruised cheeks, and he simply let go of me.

"Pull me up!" I had screamed in a long dead language, one of many I thought had been cleansed from my system.

"I can't," Alfred replied. "I'm not strong enough, and I can't let Japan fall." From there I switched back to English, cursing him, calling him a crybaby and demanding he pull me up. Finally when it was clear who he was going to save, I tried to reach him with another long dead tongue.

"I'm your brother!" I screamed. "Mother would want you to save me!"

"Anowarkowa is gone. We made her disappear. You and me together under England," Alfred said. "Just like you hove to disappear. I'm sorry, but I love Japan." Then America's mouth curled into a sad smile. "I'll explain everything when you come back, I promise. All of this will make sense, that much I can swear to you. In the meantime, there's a ton of ledges hidden in the waterfall. Aim yourself to land on one of them then climb back up and meet me at my house."

I'm so angry and hurt, I'm crying as my fingers scramble for a hold on the jutting rocks, the finger I broke to save Alfred throbbing as I force it to grip something, anything to keep my head above the torrent of foaming gray. I'm being mercilessly pounded into the various stones by the rapids. I hear the roaring of the waterfall a little ways down the cave, knowing I'll be smashed into oblivion like all the bodies I've dumped.

Finland's boss.

Vietnam.

Her boss.

Most of America's states.

The states I didn't kill on the spot or had the other killers take care of followed me here like little trusting lambs thinking I was Alfred.

All of them had been ground into nothing by the rocks below the huge spout of water, and now it's my turn. The irony is hilarious isn't it? I'm still trying to find a hold, but the water is too strong and the rocks too smooth and slippery. It's like trying to catch a fish with my bare hands covered in grease.

I'm trying, I really am, but at this point I know what's going to happen. Call it the curse of the younger twin if you want, but the ugly truth is I'm going to fall down the waterfall in a little less then ten minutes and be crushed to death. I destroyed my own capital to make it seem like I was the victim and thus my immortality is no more.

I did it all for Alfred, my dear brother, because no matter what kind of rotten luck I've had due to being created second or how Alfred has pushed me around, I still love him. Alfred's not a bad person despite what many others believe. Or rather, at least he wasn't until Reynolds ruined him. Now he's turned into someone I barely know, but I know he's not evil. He's hurt and he's broken, but not evil. My big brother could never be evil.

I figure that if there's something or someone that can hear my innermost thoughts, I want to explain, because I'm not evil either. Despite what I've done or who I've hurt directly or indirectly, I'm not dying a psychotic murderer. I did this all to protect my brother and myself.

It all began roughly a little over a year prior, when the snake named Black slithered his way into my office. I was sitting at my desk, pouring over paperwork and some of my brother's mistakenly sent mail. It was then he came. He was all sweet words at first, but he quickly became a boa constrictor, tightening his grip on me until I couldn't breathe.

Black had the most piercing eyes, which glared straight through my usual invisibility right into my soul. He knew who I was right away. There was no mistaking it, and automatically I could tell he wanted to play some twisted game with me. In a way, Black is like a child._ Everything_ is some kind of game to him, every killer nation a puzzle to manipulate to his will. If any of us are truly insane, then it's Black.

I still remember the aura he gave off as he sauntered into my office as if he owned it. His mask was smooth, almost like velvet, though the frigid cold which it emanated gave it a feeling of being made of something harder, like porcelain or something more durable, like marble.

"Right now," he began sweetly after his initial sweet talking, placing a hand on my shoulder while the thumb of the other teasingly rubbed against my cheek. I tried to stand up, but he kept me down, those horrible, insane eyes glaring down at me with sickening glee. "There are five killer nations surrounding Ottawa. If you do not agree to join us, you and all your people: your men, your women, your children, your infants…they will all burn." At this, rage jolted through me (something I'm not known for) and I shoved him away, causing him to skid across my desk before toppling over the other side.

The cheek his crazy, corroded thumb touched was burning, and my heart raced. I never felt so disgusted in all my life. However, instead of getting up and lunging at me, Black merely lay where he fell. The only change was that he was laughing. It was a laugh that told me I was trapped and that he had all the fun in the world chasing after me.

He laughed wildly and sat up with ease. I instinctively backed away, jumping slightly as my back touched the wall.

"You're insane!" I snarled. Black merely tilted his head.

"These days, who isn't?"

"Get out before I throw you out!" I pointed towards the door. Black merely let out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

"You're too precious if you think I'm bluffing," Black said, coming closer. "I knew you were like your brother in some ways. Only difference is, you're invisible, aren't you?"

"Don't come any closer!" I warned. "You get away from me!"

"If I do that, Ottawa is going to be up in flames," Black explained, reaching out, grasping my wrist, and squeezing painfully. He leaned in closer, his distorted voice growling lowly in my ear, "and I won't stop to even drop my pants to _tinkle _on it." I stared blankly at my office door, for the first time wishing that he had mistaken me for America. And did he just say_ tinkle_? Really? "So it's your choice, I destroy you so quickly your moronic twin down south won't even know what happened, because let's face it, he'll be the only one who'll blink twice when he realizes you're dead, and even that's debatable, or," he paused and took a step back to the desk where he picked up several pens and began playing with them, "you join our little ragtag family, Ottawa will still be standing and all your little happy people with their maple syrup, their hockey, and their delicious bacon will be spared." He gave a laugh, his horrible eyes still on the pens.

"Get out," was all I could think to say.

"Canada, I'm losing my patience with you," Black sighed, slamming his pens down on the desk. "You know I'm not bluffing. I may be what you call 'insane', though that's a matter of your opinion, which never mattered in the first place, but I'm not stupid." I thought for sure Black was smiling, his eyes narrowing from behind the mask holes. "As soon as I walk out that door, your people are all going to die and then I'll just have Yellow come in a slit your throat, that sound fun?"

I didn't answer. My tongue suddenly feelt swollen inside my mouth. Black merely patted my cheek condescendingly. "I'm the bad guy here. You get to join with the knowledge that you're protecting your people."

"Why me?" I asked. "Why do you need me? America is…" I lost my train of thought, not sure what I wanted to say. Black merely cocked his head, letting his hip lean against the edge of my desk.

"Why you?" Black repeated. "Why you and not your brother?"

I only nodded dumbly. Black gave a small chuckle, lifting himself to sit on my desk again.

"Because, sweet little uh…" he trailed off, obviously forgetting my name.

"Canada," I said flatly.

"I was about to say that!" Black exclaimed hastily, lifting his hands as if he were actually afraid I'd slap him. "I chose you because you of all nations know what it's like to have the rest of the world take a big steaming poopie on your existence. Think about it, how many would care if I walked out of this room?"

"Did you just say _poopie_?" I asked incredulously.

"No..."

"You said _tinkle _earlier."

"I don't like to swear, okay? It's not very nice." Black said haughtily. "Now do as your told and think about who would care if you died!"

That's where I made my biggest mistake.

I did exactly what he said. Thinking about it both now and then, I really didn't have anyone. England never really acknowledged me even after France abandoned me, Prussia rarely visited me unless he was passing by (and even then he had to be hungry), Cuba was always confusing me for America (I still had a few bruises from his latest attack), and my own brother, the person who was supposed to be my other half, took me for granted and bullied me.

Now as I gag and cough, my face still stinging from where Japan scratched me, I wonder what would have happened if I had refused. Ottawa was destroyed regardless, and I'm dying regardless. Still, there's something that's telling me that at least I tried and I just took on something that was way over my head. Then again, it's not that anyone cares.

This was the same train of thought I had as I stared into Black's deranged and sadistic eyes. No one cared about me. I wasn't sad about it, nor did I hold any resentment. I was simply acknowledging a fact. However, I was sure Black had a motive and needed to know what it was before I agreed.

"How many are you planning to kill?" I wondered.

"Everyone," he answered with no hesitation. "Even my children will fall eventually." I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. This psycho didn't just want to kill the nations, he wanted to kill the killers as well.

"Why do you want to kill everyone?" I asked weakly.

"So they can be reborn."

"Reborn?" I asked, utterly confused.

"Someone once said that only the dead see the end of war. Someone else also said only after times of strife can there be peace." Black looked at me expectantly, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

"I-I don't understand," I stuttered out regretfully. Black let out another tingling laugh, but shook his head.

"It's time to reset the world. People are disgusting creatures, ruining nations left and right, your brother a prime example. It's time to make the people start from scratch. They've become too spoiled with technology and all the things their nations have to endure on their behalf. Let them feel hardship so that they may be more thankful when their nations are reborn pure and untainted."

And that was all I got. The reason to commit genocide was to fill out some bullshit prophecy or philosophy or whatever you want to call it. However, I wasn't interested in the killers' goal or seeing it through until the end. No, my goal, after being dragged into their screwed up world, was to simply stay alive and keep my head down, something I was always good at.

Yet all that changed when we were given our first directions to meet electronically. Upon finding the laptop, I was horrified to hear the other killers think of Black as their father figure, their family. It was obvious Black had done some superior mind fucking to warp their thoughts, and for some reason spared me.

Even now I wonder why he didn't completely convert me. Maybe it was because he knew the inevitable slaughter Alfred and I would commit together in order to stay alive. What? You didn't think I did this all alone, did you? After all, a plan this grand takes two minds and Alfred has more brains than people give him credit for. It began at this first meeting, shortly after Black added me to his collection.

It was stupid, and I was uncomfortable and paranoid through most of it due to the glaring fact I had no idea who I was talking to. Pink, Green, White, Yellow, Purple, Red, and of course, Black, were all just distorted voices filtering through my computer.

It was in this moment I felt completely and utterly alone. I didn't know who these nations were. Black was vague on details, for the first meeting was only to show us how we would communicate without knowing each other's identities, but I remember everything from the moment he told us his initial plan.

"It's important that you all remain unknowing to the identities of your comrades for now, until we weed out the possible traitors," Black's synthetic voice explained. Though I knew it was my imagination, I felt as if seven pairs of eyes were all glaring at me through the screen. After a moment of awkward radio silence, Black spoke again. "These are our first targets."

I stared in shock at the monitor as the three pictures came up. One was of China, the other of Russia, and the last of my brother, America. All three of them were in their finest suits, easy smiles on their faces. America was going to die. These monsters were going to kill my brother, and despite how strong Alfred was, seven against one was never a fair fight.

"The Big Three, huh?" Purple mused. "We start big I see."

"Do we even have the resources to take them out?" Pink wondered, slightly anxious. "None of us have ever killed before. Maybe we should start smaller, like with Liechtenstein or someone like that."

"That's stupid!" White snapped.

"I call Russia!" Green declared.

"I call China!" Yellow piped up.

"I call America!" I shouted, before anyone else could. I felt my heart race and my blood surge through my veins at an alarming rate. Despite everything Alfred put me through, he was still my brother. I loved him then and I love him now, and just the thought of any one of these psychotic pieces of trash getting their grubby paws on him made me feel sick.

"Really, Blue?" Black murmured. "I was going to give him to you anyway, but since you're so eager to please." He laughed a bit, the other killers joining in at my expense. I didn't care about what they thought of me. All I needed to do was come up with a way to stall for time so I could alert Alfred to what was going on.

"What about Austria-Hungary!" I suddenly spoke up, grasping at straws to try and find a way to stall. "They're rebuilding their empire and are starting to bully other nations around them! We should start with them before they get too powerful and engulf all of Europe!"

"That's an exaggeration," Yellow laughed. "Like those washed up states can take over Europe."

"But Pink is right, we need to start smaller!" I argued further. "We need to get used to killing, because none of us have ever done it before! Besides, we need to concentrate our resources before we start taking out the Big Three."

"You have a point," Black murmured. "I guess easing you into the process will make our path much smoother in the long run."

"I don't need to be eased in," White muttered. "Although, I'm curious to who you have in mind, Blue." I scrapped my brain for a moment. Who was I going to sacrifice in Alfred's place? I thought about Austria and Hungary, how kind they were and how happy they were together. Austria, with his beautiful piano playing and Hungary, with her fan service camera of doom. Both added their own spice to the world, and without them, it would all be so dull. How could I sentence them to death? How could I sentence anyone to death?

"Come on, Blue, who should we start with?" Green prompted gently. I found myself liking him despite the situation.

"Switzerland," I finally said. "We need money, plus it sends a message to Austria and Hungary that their growing power means nothing and that the more they attempt annexation by such childish means, the more nations will die."

"Impressive point," Black marveled. "So you recommend Switzerland for the money and to send that lovely empire overseas a message?"

"Yes sir," I confirmed. "Austria-Hungary is growing rapidly economically, and so we need to show them that growth means death for others. That way, they won't pose a threat to us later down the road like the Big Three do to us now." Really, I was pulling shit out of my ass, but it appeared to be working as the other killers remained silent.

"Makes sense to me," Yellow finally sighed. "Who's going to kill Switzerland, then?"

"How about you, White?" Black asked. "Since you seem so thrilled to prove yourself." There was silence on White's end for a long time before he finally uttered,

"Fine."

"Great, well after Switzerland, Blue, Green, and Yellow will attack America, Russia and China to incapacitate them. Besides Russia, we can't have them dead yet, but we do posses the strength to weaken them."

"Wait!" I shouted, standing from my chair abruptly; not that it had any effect since none of them could technically see me. "You mean your plan was never to kill them?"

"Well, not yet at least," Black answered. "We just need them out of the way before they put any of their own resources to good use. The only one out of these three I want dead as soon as possible with minimal screwing around is Russia." I suddenly felt very ill. I had just sentenced another nation to his death for no reason.

"I already have a plan in store for my lovely china doll," Yellow cackled. "Right after Green decides to kill Russia."

"I'll make sure the growing Austro-Hungarian Empire gets the message," White hissed lowly. "It's going to take me about a year to organize enough force to kill him, considering I'm borrowing troops from the rest of you, but it will happen."

"Very well. Blue, your job is to incapacitate America for the time being," Black ordered. "Then, I'll kill him myself, because I feel this is rather personal for you." I felt myself break into a cold sweat. The bastard had given the other killers a hint at my true identity. "You may begin as soon as you deem fit. Don't fail, because if you do, I won't even bother with just incapacitating him and you will suffer greatly if I have to clean up after you. After all, parents shouldn't have to pick up their children's messes, am I correct?"

"Yes, Black," the other killers chirped in unison like a chorus of well-trained songbirds. It was nauseating.

"Alright," I said slowly, careful not to stutter. I had to make myself respectable, or else the other killers would have smelled a weakling and gone after me like rabid bloodhounds. "I'll be in touch," were my final words as I severed the connection. I admit, I almost cried right there because I was absolutely terrified and I felt so horribly alone. Yet, I knew I needed help and I knew I needed to think. So, in the end, I went to the only person I knew who, despite his dumb exterior and blatant disregard to the atmosphere, was smart enough to help me. I went to my big brother, Alfred. At first he didn't believe me, but after seeing my sheer desperation and terror, he pulled me inside and attempted to calm me in my near panic.

We built a sheet fort and curled together under it, me trembling and scared while he held me and rubbed my back in an effort to keep me from hyperventilating. It was comforting, knowing I wasn't alone for the first time in what felt like centuries. I told him everything, about how I was supposed to neutralize him before Black planned to take the finishing blow along with every detail about the meeting.

"Did you tell the other nations?"

"I can't!" I wailed pathetically. "I don't know who the other seven are!"

"But we can still warn the others," America pointed out. I shook my head.

"If we hold a world meeting and I tell, they'll hear and they'll kill me for attempting to betray them!" Alfred's face was pained and even a little frightened. "It will just throw everyone into a panic anyway. Besides, what can I tell them, 'Seven nations including me are trying to kill you?' They'll lose their minds! Then they'll demand who they are and I won't know and they won't believe me!"

"And they're going for me, Russia and China first?"

"After they kill Switzerland, which White plans to do in about a year after he gathers enough forces."

"So, I'm going to die?" he asked after I finished. I nodded into his chest, comforted by my twin's nostalgically familiar warmth.

"Unless we think of something," I murmured. "I don't want to kill anyone. I didn't want this at all, but he was going to destroy Ottawa and kill everyone. My people would have been devastated and I can't have that."

"Yeah, you did the right thing," America reassured, patting the top of my head tenderly. "A nation has to look out for their people first, before themselves, and of course before other nations." I felt a lash of guilt as he said this, thinking of the moment of bitter self pity I had before accepting.

"But what do I do now?" I asked softly, trying to rid it from my mind. "I don't know what to do, Alfred. I don't want to hurt you, ever." It was true. Even if we got into a few confrontations every now and then, 1812 was enough for me. Alfred shifted and lay down on his back while I followed suit and let my head rest on his outstretched arm. I remember staring up at the sheets for the longest time, unable to come up with anything and wishing I was small again with France as my big brother.

"Well," America finally spoke after what felt like forever. "Your orders were to simply knock me down for the count, right?"

"Yeah," I answered. There was a stretched silence for what felt like hours, and I could feel my brother trying to piece something together in his mind. He was thinking of a plan and immediately my heart picked up with both expectation and dread.

"Well, I have an idea, but you're not going to like it." I gulped, pushing myself closer to Alfred's warmth.

"Better than nothing," I said.

"Well, a killer won't kill one of their own, right?"

"I don't know. They all seem capable of killing anything that moves."

"Huh, well let's just assume they won't kill their own," Alfred said. "Dangerous to assume anything that big, but it's clear they need you."

"What do you have in mind?" Alfred paused again.

"This is the part you're not going to like," he murmured, toying with a strand of my hair, identical to his own other than the slight wave. "You're going to have to start killing my states." I shot up at this and stared down at him in shock. Surely America wasn't suggesting what I thought he was suggesting. America's states considered him their father, although there was no real blood relation between them. Unlike Alfred, the states were born completely of Europe, and although Alfred and I looked European, there was no denying the fact some of our mother's blood still flowed through us.

"You're kidding, right?" I demanded. "You're telling me to just do as Black says? You can't expect me to kill your states!"

"You're going to have to play along for awhile," Alfred explained. "And you can't think about anyone else but your people and yourself right now." I shook my head roughly.

"I can't kill them, Alfred!" I exclaimed. "They're all just children compared to the rest of us, and…whether or not they're blood to you or not, you're still connected. Killing them would hurt you." Alfred gave a sad smile and reached out to touch my cheek. His hands had always been warm, especially in winter when he would cry, complain and cling to me.

"It's okay. Just make it quick," Alfred murmured. I wondered with slight awe and disgust how my brother could sacrifice his states so easily. Alfred, as if hearing my thoughts, merely sighed. "You say there are seven, right?"

"Besides me, yes," I answered.

"Then there's no way to stop this. You need to play along as Blue."

"Why?" I demanded. "And what makes you think I'm going to kill your states?"

"Because what's going to happen if you don't follow the orders to attack me?" I didn't answer, already knowing. If I didn't do it, Black was going to do it for me, and I was going to be thrown to the other killers as a weakling. "From what you've told me, you've got nothing on these guys. All you know is how many there are out of countless nations."

"I just wish we could stop them," I whispered. "But Black knows I'm not all for it, that's why he's keeping the other killers identities secret."

"Hm," Alfred hummed, touching his lower lip. "It's clear from what you've told me, they're making you the odd man out, which you can use to your advantage."

"H-How can I do that?" I demanded, leaning forward more than I intended. Alfred didn't back away and I could see the gears spinning behind his eyes.

"This is another part you won't like," Alfred warned. I grit my teeth in frustration. I wasn't liking any of this so far. I didn't want to kill anyone, but I had dug myself this grave and now had to lay in it. "You need to dress as me when you kill them and make sure someone sees you."

"What?" I exclaimed, lunging forward and knocking Alfred on his back. I felt my eyes burn as I looked down at my brother. I didn't understand it then, but Alfred was in just as deep as I was. He may act like an idiot, but he's really not. Black had me under his thumb and it was clear that if I didn't do as he asked, Alfred was going to die for sure.

"You heard."

"I did, but I don't…I don't understand," I whimpered. "You want me to frame you?" Alfred reached up and pulled me into another hug.

"You know my new boss, right?" I felt my eyes spill over and nodded. I didn't want this. "If he thinks I'm a killer nation…he's…going to be really angry."

"What is that going to accomplish?" I asked. "How is getting your boss angry at you going to save us?"

"Because you're going to reveal yourself to them as America," Alfred said. "That way, your identity is hidden as well, but the other killers will feel more secure about knowing your 'true' identity."

"But Black knows who I am," I pointed out. "If I say I'm you and they tell him, he'll tell them I'm lying."

"That's where you need to make allies," America stated simply.

"Allies?"

"You need to tell the other killers that Black wanted to reveal you as Canada. Then you need to gain their loyalty so when Black asks them who you are, they'll tell him you're Canada," Alfred said. "That way Black will think you told the truth, and the killers will think it's odd that their leader would lie about your true identity."

"Black says I'm Canada, but I say I'm really America. But why would they believe me over their leader?" I rolled off my brother's chest and back to his side, rubbing my temples as a headache threatened.

"Because you'll tell them he's planning on killing them too."

"You mean, after the other nations are dead?"

"That's right, he planned to use America's strength to wipe them out once their use was over. However, America felt more compassion for them than for Black."

"So then that's why I reveal my 'true' identity as America. To earn their trust," I said, realization dawning on me.

"That's right. Canada as Blue was only meant to drop their guards, because," he paused to snicker playfully, "no offense Mattie, no one takes you seriously." I felt his knuckles on top of my head as he gave me a brotherly noogie.

"Dually noted, bro," I muttered darkly, shoving his hand away. "Black wants to kill everyone, including his own killers. That would explain why he wanted to drop their guards by saying Canada was Blue. It would also explain why he wanted me to incapacitate you until he 'killed' you. We can make it seem like he was trying to fake your death, when in reality, after all's said and done, I'm supposed to kill them off after they've served their purpose."

"Pretty smart, huh?" Alfred bragged.

"I guess so, but what about the you enduring the wrath of Reynolds part?" America gave a little sideways smile.

"I can handle it, don't worry," he assured me. His eyes, mirrors of my own, grew hooded and sad. "I haven't been the best to you," he said softly. "And yeah, I'm in the hole too, but Canada needs to be as far away from this as possible. Besides, nation killing sounds like something the rest of the world thinks I'd do." I wanted to protest, for I knew Alfred didn't have the heart to kill anything, but I remained silent, knowing his words were the truth. It was going to be easier to believe Alfred was the killer.

"Does it have to be me that kills your states?" I whispered miserably.

"Yes, because besides everything I said before, I won't. I can't," he murmured softly. "I love you Matthew, but I can never hurt them directly, not even during the Civil War could I hurt them."

"But you can sacrifice them?"

"Only for you, because believe it or not, I do care. Plus, I'm a hero! What kind of hero would I be if I didn't sacrifice for my own family?"

"But why do_ I _have to kill?"

"Because this Black knows the differences between us," Alfred sighed. "He'll know what we're trying to pull if he sees me killing."

"I know," I murmured, rubbing my eyes. "This is my fault, but they're just children."

"Aw, come on, Mattie, don't get upset!" Alfred chirped, forcing ignorant cheer into his voice, although I knew my brother was disgusted and scared. I could feel it. "Sometimes…there's just nothing you can do, you know?" That kind of statement was so out of character for Alfred, for America, who's entire bane of existence was that anything was possible if you tried hard enough. Yet, I was reminded bitterly that this was reality and not fantasy land, and that if we _didn't_ kill, we'd _be_ killed.

"I need to somehow turn them against Black," I said instead, resigning myself to the horror of killing America's states. "That's going to take awhile," I observed. "They love him."

"So Blackie's got the gift of tongues," Alfred sighed, frowning. "Then it's going to take a long time to plant the seeds of doubt. At least my states are going to buy us some time to think of something. No doubt Reynolds will keep it secret once he finds out, along with…whatever he's going to do to me."

"If he hurts you," I began softly, still not able to look at him. I wet my lips as I thought. "If he hurts you, I will do anything to make it stop." I felt Alfred rest his cheek on my shoulder, the double meaning of my words going right over his head.

"He won't hurt me, I promise." I didn't look convinced. Alfred had broken promises before. He only smiled and nudged me playfully, though I detected the self-loathing in the gesture. He wasn't okay with me killing his states, but I guilty realized his human side loved me more than them.

He could have refused to help and let Black kill me. Of course, he'd die as well, but his refusal would have given him the chance to die with untainted honor, but we were connected by blood; half-bred twins from both a fallen civilization and growing one. "Just don't think about me," he directed. "Do what you need to do before we run out of time. They'll think you're me, that will give you a little more influence."

"I need to wait for the next meeting to get more information," I decided, sitting up. I stared at my feet, unable to meet my brother's eyes. "Tomorrow, I'm going to kill Maine. It's best for me to start with the northern ones."

"Just be careful and don't let their deaths be in vain," Alfred said softly. I turned and gave him a half-hearted smile.

"I know, bro," I replied softly. "I'll see you later." Upon walking outside, I found myself ghosting over to America's shed. I don't know what brought me there, but, as if in a trance, I walked past his miscellaneous items: the chainsaw he liked to scare me with and the other gardening tools. Yet, something told me to walk further, and I was drawn to the back wall, where I found it.

Mr. Cleaver had been propped against the wall, covered with dust. Yeah, I named the thing, so what? Turns out even Mr. Cleaver betrayed me in the end. I remember grasping the handle and picking it up. It wasn't monstrously huge, but it was still abnormally large. I touched it softly, feeling the cool metal beneath my fingertips. This was going to be my weapon of choice. Like the guillotine in the French revolution, I would decapitate almost everyone I killed in favor of a painless death.

Also it was that night I used the blade's reflection to cut my hair shorter like Alfred's so that it hung straight. Staring at my reflection, I saw Alfred staring back at me. I smiled bitterly. It wasn't like anyone was going to notice.

And so it happened. I killed Maine and several people came forward thinking it was America. I didn't need to hide her body. America's government would do that for me to calm the people and to hide that America was losing his mind from the rest of the world. My first kill was nothing spectacular, just a quick slice and she was gone. It was all part of the expected plan.

However, what I walked in on wasn't what I had been expecting. America said Reynolds would be angry, but I never thought he would be kicking America across the floor, screaming and yanking him up by the hair and slapping him hard across the face. As I burst in, he quit, but America had to calm me as I nearly lost it. It ended with me in tears, on my knees before him.

"You promised me he wouldn't hurt you!" I cried. "You promised!"

"I know," he whispered, cupping my face. "But you have to be strong now, bro. I'll live."

I demanded he tell someone of the abuse, but he refused, saying he could handle it and he was thinking of a plan. I was so angry in that moment, angry because as the months passed, and Alfred's injuries got worse and I was completely helpless. The more states I killed (because let's face it, I walked too far down that road to turn back then) the more aggressive Reynolds got.

In the mean time I worked on rounding the killers to my side and made two allies in Green and Purple. Yellow, in jealousy for Purple's attention, became my biggest obstacle, though we masked it in front of Black as friendly sibling banter to please our…'leader'. Ugh, thinking of Black as higher than me makes me feel so..._ew._ But anyway, I brought Purple, who took a strange liking to me for some reason, and Green, who was relatively kind-hearted and easy going, closer to my side. I was working on Pink, until finally White announced he was finally ready to kill Switzerland and did so that night with unspeakable horror.

I went to Alfred's house after hearing of Italy finding his body, angry again to see a ring of bruises around Alfred's neck from where Reynolds had mercilessly strangled him. The killing and mental strain was starting to change me at that point, but I knew little of it at the time. I was far too busy with the plan and worrying over my brother's deteriorating condition.

"So Italy was the one to find him?" Alfred asked.

"Yeah," I murmured softly, tentatively reaching out a hand to touch the new bruise on the side of his face. He grit his teeth against a painful hiss.

"I see," Alfred murmured. We both drifted into our own thoughts, him on a new course of action, and me on trying to forget the look on Michigan's face as I brought Mr. Cleaver down on his head. I still felt his blood coating my hands and face, the smell, the sounds. I shivered, my eyes owlish as I stared blankly at the ground, biting my lip. "Okay! I've thought of something with this new development!" he exclaimed. Thankfully, it lifted me from my macabre thoughts and I watched him in expectation.

"Does it involve giant robots?" I wondered, thinking of my brother's usual hair-brained schemes.

"I wish," Alfred sighed. "No heroes either, bro. Looks like you and I are going Hulk."

"What?"

"Antihero, dear brother. We're not the good guys," he admitted this with a grudging pout, "but we're not the bad guys either. We're sort of a neutral party that's in it for our own gain, like the Hulk."

"I get it," I lied, only wanting to hear what my brother had come up with.

"Well, Italy was the one who found Switzerland's body first, where is he now?"

"Passed out by Switzerland's body," I answered.

"Okay, so besides the killers, who could be anybody, the only nations who know he's dead are you, me, and Italy. Now, Italy is one of my friends and if anything, he's going to want to solve Switzerland's murder and he'll drag Japan and Germany with him."

"He will?" America nodded.

"Kid thinks with his heart instead of his head, something I used to do," he recalled sadly. "But yeah, he's going to drag them along with him. Which is perfect for how I plan to get rid of Reynolds without getting you or the killers involved."

"Wait, you plan to get rid of Reynolds? As in _kill him_?" I asked in wonder. "You can't kill your boss, Alfred. He's well-loved by your people, you can't even…" I faltered briefly, remembering seeing Alfred on the ground while Reynolds' foot smashed into his ribcage. "You can't even defend yourself."

"I can't, but someone will for me," he said decisively. "All you need to do is get over to Switzerland's house by tonight and leave evidence pointing to me. Here," he walked to the other side of the room to where an ancient rocking horse stood, and plucked a hair from its already half-gone mane.

"A blond hair?" I asked, staring down at the single strand. "Do you have a death wish?"

"Opposite, actually," Alfred said matter-of-factly. "This a horse hair. Enough to make me a suspect, but not enough to totally convict me. I'll burn the rocking horse tonight since it's old anyway." I saw the flash of pain in his eyes, but decided to ignore it.

"I don't get it," I said flatly, crossing my arms. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Think for a sec, when Italy drags Germany and Japan with him to investigate, who's going to be the one who suspects me and try to gain evidence by perhaps, snooping around?"

"Uh," I began. "Well, Italy is too much of a coward, plus he's an idiot, and you're helping Germany with those reparations so he won't want to believe you're a killer, so that leaves Japan."

"Exactly," America confirmed. "Japan's going to be the one who's going to be sneaking around my house, what with his ninjas and all that, so he's going to be the one to see my wounds."

"And Japan is your friend too," I added, connecting the pieces. "And he's going to want to take care of you."

"Right again. We're friends now, and he'll be compelled to protect me. If I play this Reynolds thing right, he'll take action."

"You mean, you think you can get him to kill Reynolds for you?" I questioned doubtfully.

"Not think, I know," Alfred corrected. "He's going to kill Reynolds and then you'll be free to tell the other killers you're me."

"So after Reynolds dies, I reveal myself as you to all of them?"

"That's right, then we go into the plan we had before about turning them against Black." I thought about Yellow and White, the two who were most loyal to Black, almost to the point of slaves. They were going to be hard to break, but I could tell Yellow's need to be near Purple was greater, so White was left the only concern.

"But what are you going to do?"

"After Reynolds dies, Japan will do the honorable thing and tell me the truth. That's when I'm going to tell you," he told.

"So you want me to spread the word about Japan killing Reynolds?" I figured. "Why?"

"Because everyone who knows, including Canada, will disappear."

"Disappear?" Alfred nodded.

"Yeah, you need to capture them and bring them to a secret place, that way, later down the road you can lure Germany, Italy and Japan there and pretend to kill the captured nations in front of them as America. That way Blue's identity would be set in stone. After that episode, we'll switch places again so you are Canada, and I'm America again."

"So I can hide in plain sight," I finished. "They'll be busy looking for America when really you'll be 'dead', all while fooling the system. Still, how many countries do I have to capture?"

"Just enough to get them to pick up the trend," Alfred answered. "One person who witnesses it firsthand, Japan's alibi, two others to appease the killers, and then the one nation you confide in."

"We need to appease the killers?" I asked.

"Yes," America said. "You're going to have to work with them for this to work. They need to respect you. Capture two other nations for show to prove you're serious. When you lure Japan, Germany, and Italy to the place where you're keeping the nations, you're going to need a motive and an explanation. So, you need two nations who you were going to frame as Blue." I rubbed my temples, horribly confused.

"Okay, just tell me exactly what you have in mind," I ordered.

"Alright. Here's what I'm thinking. You need to capture Denmark and Norway."

"Why?"

"Just trust me." America's eyes grew dark and his mouth pursed into a thin line. In that moment, I knew there was something he wasn't telling me. I couldn't push though. How could I when there was so much I didn't know? "It has to be them. Use Denmark's ax as a murder weapon for Norway. That way, Denmark will be under your heel. You can use him as an alibi, because if he doesn't do what you say, you can tell the other nations he killed Norway. He'll be an asset."

I felt a sudden jolt of discomfort. "Okay, let me get this straight. You want me to kill Norway with Denmark's ax so I'll have someone to blackmail into helping me keep my identity a secret if I need it. When Italy, Germany, and Japan are lured there, I'll pretend to kill the rest of the nations as America."

"You don't have to kill them!" America exclaimed hastily, raising his hands. "You just have to make it look like you did. Like, leave blood everywhere and Denmark's ax and a piece of Norway's uniform."

"Oh," I murmured, sighing in relief. "But what am I supposed to do with all the nations I supposedly kill?"

"Hide them, duh," Alfred laughed. "You'll knock everyone out then move all the nations to a secure location. I can think of a few, Fort Knox for example, but yeah, we'll get through with hopefully no nation killing, because I can see what it's doing to you," America finished sadly. "If you tell the nations what's going on, I know they'll play along." There was silence for a moment longer.

"Because if they don't, I _will _kill them," I whispered.

"Matt," Alfred murmured softly.

"They don't know I exist anyway, why should I have to die for them!" I snapped. "If they're going to be too disgusted with what I'm doing to play along while I attempt to save their lives, I won't have to!"

"Mattie, calm down. No one is against you, and I'm sure once you tell them what's going on, that you plan to turn the killers against Black before finding their identities, they'll help you." I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Of course they would help me. They had to or they'd really be killed. I didn't want to kill anyone, but my brother and myself came first. I was in full survival mode. Besides Denmark, I knew I had to destroy the nations' capitals to make them appear murdered, meaning they'd be angry at the very least. If they refused to act when I pretended to kill them, I truly would go through with it. In fact, killing them would save me a great deal of trouble.

The way I saw it, killing was like smoking. You smoked your first cigarette and you were lucky to get through half a butt without puking your guts out or at the very least hacking up a lung. However, in time once you grew seasoned and the sweet addiction of nicotine set in, it became second nature and something you found yourself needing. Killing had the same general idea. After hacking through most of America's states, although I still wasn't comfortable with killing, its addicting affects were starting to kick in, and it offered itself as a third option.

"Maybe we should just kill them," I offered. "It will get too confusing if we keep them alive."

"Matthew!" America exclaimed, shocked. "Listen to what you're saying!" I did and was instantly ashamed of myself. I've killed humans before in war, but killing a nation, someone like me, was not the same.

"I'm not in a good place, bro," I admitted, tears welling. "It's…it's getting….It's getting easier to do it!" I finally wailed. "It shouldn't be easy! I-I shouldn't begin to accept it!" Alfred placed a comforting hand on top of my head, silencing me and ruffling my hair affectionately.

"I know, Matt, I know. We just have to make it believable to the killers and assure them you weren't trying to get caught. We don't need to kill anybody." America paused, biting his lower lip. "Now, you're really not going to like this. We're going to have to fake Canada's death." I paused, staring at him intently. I felt my body tremble as something horrible crept up on me.

"I'm going to have to destroy Ottawa," I murmured.

"Yeah," America said softly. "So when you go missing, the detectives will think you're dead, making America even more of a suspect. Also, it should keep the killers off your back. But here's the ideal situation:

"The killers will think Canada is dead and America is using his identity.

"Black will think the opposite; that America is dead and Canada was using his identity. He'll chalk it up to your plan to escape custody. He'll figure with everyone looking for a dead nation, you can take your true identity as Canada and continue to operate without the secrecy.

"The detectives meanwhile will think America is on the run, and Canada is trying to run both nations to the best of his abilities."

"I guess that makes sense," I murmured. "So before all of this and before I lure Germany, Japan, and Italy to where I've taken all the nations who knew about Reynolds, we're going to switch places. You'll be Canada, who disappears and apparently is murdered, and I'll be America, the mastermind," I figured. "So basically I have to fake your death as well along with Norway's and the other nations."

"Yes, and before that, when you finally kill all my states, I'm no doubt going to be in the hospital. After you call me in a panic about one nation's faked death, set up evidence to make it seem like you disappeared that night, and go into isolation. Don't let anyone see you and cut ties with everybody. After I get out of the hospital, I'll meet you in Toronto so I can call Japan and tell him you're gone and we can swap identities. Japan will come to get me, but pick you up instead, and from there you can lure them to the place where you've taken me and the other nations and proceed to falsely execute them as America. Then once you knocked out everybody, you hide the nations and we go to one last swap as I've said before."

"I see, to the other killers it will be as America planned, and assuming they'll be on America's side by then, they'll tell Black all he wants to hear. To the detectives, Canada's just the victim," I figured. "And finally to Black it will look like I was trying to make myself look like the victim by framing America."

"Yes. Now all you need to do is to choose a nation to capture and fake a death for to please your 'friends'. Someone you would confide in."

"Oh," replied. "Well, the first person I'd tell would probably be Cuba since -"

"Kill him on the spot. Don't even fake it with him." The statement was so blunt and quick, delivered with no frills or gentleness. The sudden change in mood was like being tossed into a frigid cold river. Irony intended.

I said nothing for a moment, shocked into silence. I stared at my brother stupidly, unable to comprehend what he just said. He merely stared back at me, his eyes not dark, but normal and expectant.

"W-What?" I finally managed to sputter out. I didn't like killing. I didn't like seeing the fear in my victims' eyes. I could kill states that really meant nothing to me, but Cuba? Cuba was my friend, someone who gave me ice cream, someone who genuinely cared about me, even if he did beat me up on occasions after mistaking me for America.

"If you don't kill anyone, then they'll all get suspicious," Alfred explained. "If Cuba dies, already I'm a suspect just because I hate him. Plus if you horde all the nations, the killers will get pissed thinking you were trying to save them. You need to kill on the way and I figured you might want to start with a nation that deserves it."

"Deserves it!" I exclaimed, horrified at my brother's words. "Alfred, how can you say that? Cuba is my friend! I know you two don't get along, but I could never -"

"If you're really my brother, you will sacrifice for me," America interrupted quietly. He might as well have shouted for the effect it had. I stopped babbling, though I felt like I was about to cry again, that sick, twisted nausea seeping through my gut. "Like I scarified for you." I felt a lump rise in my throat.

"B-But…" I whimpered, unable to finish. America's eyes narrowed and he grabbed my wrists, pulling me closer to his face, his eyes suddenly growing wide. Just by looking into those piercing blue disks, I knew America had lost it. After a year, Reynolds' abuse had the intended effect. America thought he was evil and hated himself, but he also hated everyone else for agreeing.

"I let you slaughter my states, and now I'm being savagely beaten for you," he whispered softly. He wasn't angry, which made it worse. He was pleading almost, crying for help. A part of him was begging me to slap him out of this, but...I _couldn't_. For some reason this _excited me. _His fingers around my wrists were searing hot, almost painfully so, but I didn't struggle. "You'll kill for me, right Mattie? You want me happy, right?" I shuddered.

"You know I want you to tell someone," I whispered, our faces inches apart.

"And you know I can't," he murmured, letting our foreheads touch. "If you love me, you'll do it. You'll kill that ungrateful communist. You'll…be my hero." Before those words, I was getting angry, not at America, but at Reynolds, for it was clear what kind of emotional abuse he was hurling out to accompany the physical. After a year of enduring, Alfred was slowly being warped into the monster he is today. I knew that, but as soon as he compared me to a hero, all rational knowledge of the twisted thought process only brought on by the abuse cleared.

I was suddenly raised above my invisible status. I could be someone my older brother looked up to and adored, never to be neglected again. Our being reunited came back to mind, when he simply forgot me and turned away. If I was his hero, he'd never forget me. I wouldn't lose my brother again. Cuba suddenly seemed like a small price to pay as I imagined the days America and I spent together, free from the rest of the world.

I blinked slowly as a decision formed itself in my brain.

"Yes," I finally choked out, gazing into the endless blue of my brother's eyes. "I will kill for you."

* * *

Anowarkowa - According to a good friend of mine from the Mohawk tribe, this is what her people called the North American continent. It apparently means Turtle Island. It's Lucky's headcannon that America and Canada were first raised by Native America before going to England. They are a part of her and they see her as their mother.

So we begin the answer. Again, this should be betaed soon, but with Angel's rapid mental strain from the lovely thing we call life, it's going to be awhile so she wanted to post this now. ILY GAIS T^T. AND YESH YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO GET A LOT FROM THIS CHAPPIE. IT'S CONFUSING AS FUCK FOR A REASON YAY! Which is why people who actually followed these psycho boys' train of thought get a cookie!

**And here is Lucky with the shout-outs. :) **

**Verocat** (I'm working on my scene. :D)**, SsmilyfaceE, ****NekoDoodle**(It's always the sweet, innocent ones. ;))**, ****MoonlitMelody****, ****Anaca****, ****Kendall N.S.****, ****tonieboo0013****, ****Kari Kurofai****, ****Moonstreakneko****, ****Greenish Violet**(We love you, but we can't answer those questions, sorry. XD)**, EBIL DUSTBUNNY OF DOOOOM, Taketo Yamenushi, ficfan3484, MordeMe, ****Celestial Sara****, ****dragoneian****, ****misharoyuki****, ****marmoki****, ****Victoria Wan****, AkoujOi, ****The Metal Cervidae****, Michiroo, ****Resident Fruit Knife**(Two hours to read through the entire fanfic? MUST WORSHIP.)**, ****xYukii****, justinewhitlock4eva, ****Dokami-San****, ****kudjiboy****, ****Canadino**(You only just now started getting freaked out? XD I love you.)**, CanadianCookie, ****Mad Half Hour****, ****My Precious Laith****, ****EmoLollipop**(D: :Quickly pours brain back in:)**, ****HandInTheCookieJar****, ****LupinandHarry****, ****WhimsicalShmoo****, ****Kuragari Rya****, ****nagihachan****, ****avaspongeriffic****, ****SpazztikXpRiDe18****, ****Tinkeroftime****, ****Reaper-Lawliet**(XD Are you happier now that your theory was half-right?)**, ****, ****Half-Blood Warrior Kitty**(XD We're pretty sure that it's gonna be off of this story, yeah. :))**, My Precious Laith, darandomninja, Sageleisa, AntonioAndRomano4Ever, Darona, ninjafox369, VIITheChariot, spocketlaine, hellmath, marialeiah, .Spekke., LightBender, The daily life of a peach, and finally~**

**CandleLight-Soul!**

**Hope to hear from you guys~ ;)**


	35. Eye Opening Chapter: Demon Twins II

Okay guys, I'm trying to finish this as quickly as possible because I doubt anyone really wants to sift through twelve chapters of answer. Still, come on, you wanted to know how he did it, right? Again, exams are this week, but I'm still trying to get this done ASAP. By the way, do you all like the first person? It's weird for me to write, but Lucky and I think it fits.

Oh, and whoever listens to the song "Lies" by Evanescence while reading will totally get the desired effect of this answer.

Special shout outs go to,

**Celestial Sara**, **The daily life of a peach **and **WhimsicalShmoo**, who got everything they needed to get last chappie from Alfie's twisted thought process XD For the rest of you, Canada breaks it down.

**Disclaimer: We own nothing. **

* * *

Once you got down to it and ignored all the filler, Alfred's plan was relatively simple. After all, things get too complicated you tend to screw everything up. Though confusing when one didn't think on the same wavelength, it was basically this:

1) Frame America as Blue.

2) Reveal myself to the killers as America.

3) Get the killers to tell Black I revealed myself as Canada.

Easier said than done, right?

This would accomplish three things:

1) Make Black believe I was his little lap dog going above and beyond trying not to get caught and to make him think I trusted my 'siblings' enough to show them my true face. (The day that would happen would be the day I walked in on Greece and Turkey declaring their love for one another).

2) Get the killers to trust and believe me when I told Black was planning their deaths as well, because America, although hated, carried a great amount of influence.

3) Make all investigating nations intent on finding America after it appeared I killed four nations in front of them so I, as Canada, could hide in plain sight.

Nice results, huh? I get off scott-free while America takes all the heat. However, this little half of the plan is also easier said than done.

There were a lot of confusing twists and turns to get to those points and with my rapid decent into insanity, keeping events straight was becoming a chore. However, I was determined, and regardless of my detachment, I knew what to do.

Even if it meant destroying my human side.

Agreeing to kill Cuba for my brother was simply the final snap in an already broken back. If I was losing myself before, now that I was being given the attention I had been craving without realizing it, I had come to terms with my killing. At this point, after a year of hunting states, I even accepted it.

It made it so much easier to think without emotion blinding me. It turns out, Alfred was correct in thinking Japan would be the one to investigate further after finding the horse hair at Switzerland's murder scene. For after Italy finished crawling all over Alfred when Romano (thank God White exterminated that rude little shit) brought up the bruise, he was the one who seemed most suspicious.

"So America-kun has a bruise on the side of his face, and the hair we found matches his hair color." I had to hold back a smile as he put the pieces together and kept my face disbelieving and determined.

"That doesn't prove anything!" I took a step back, my eyes narrowing. "It's all circumstantial. There are plenty of nations with blond hair. Besides, we don't know where the bruise came from!" It hurt to lie about that. I wanted to scream it to the room that America was being abused, and that it wasn't just resulting in bruises.

"Hey Canada, did you cut your hair?" Italy asked out of the blue. "It looks great!" I paused for a moment, a spike of panic stabbing through my heart. Did he figure it out? Did he know what Alfred and I planned later down the road? Was he smarter than we gave him credit for and he knew we planned to swap roles to frame America, then swap roles again so the true killer could hide in plain sight? Was that all he saw instead of the greater purpose of turning the killers against Black?

"What does that have...? Eh, _anyway_!" I shouted, the confusion replaced by my previous seriousness. "My hair is not the point! The point is you're accusing my brother of murder based on circumstantial evidence!"

"That's true, this evidence _is_ purely circumstantial," Japan figured, though I could tell it didn't effect his suspicion. In that instant, I saw America's eyes flash and I knew it was almost time to lay the first piece of evidence. "There are many nations who have blond hair, and just because America-kun happens to have a bruise doesn't necessarily mean-"

"But!" Italy interrupted. "Where di-"

"SHUT UP!" America suddenly shot out of his chair, causing it to topple over with a loud clatter. He was standing rigid, hands clenched into trembling fists as he stared at the floor. His hair covered his eyes, but his mouth was visible and twisted into a grimace.

Everyone was shocked at America's unusual display of anger, except for me. Even Russia's purple eyes were slightly larger, and every nation's mouth was agape. The silence became the loudest thing in the room, until I turned, careful my expression was a mixture of concern and terror.

"A-America?" I asked, tone cautious as I reached out a tentative hand and placed it on his shoulder.

"What in the seven hells has gotten into you?" England demanded. With anger and confusion etched on his face, he was about to walk over to Alfred, but was stopped by France's hand on his sleeve.

"England, don't," he whispered, eyes directed at the floor.

"What are you…?"

_"S'il vous plaît ne pas_…" All nations in the room turned to the doors to find Liechtenstein standing there, her eyes blank saucers.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as she entered the room, yet I had to fight back another smile and exchanged a look with Alfred, who gave a curt nod, telling me he was planning on storming out.

"Brother," Liechtenstein murmured pathetically. Although Alfred was putting on a good show, Liechtenstein was the main concern as she too began to shake beneath the black cloth of her dress.

"B-Brother," she whimpered, a thin trail of tears falling down her cheeks. Her hand curled into a fist and shook against the back of Switzerland's chair. Suddenly, she fell to her knees, burying her face into the seat and letting out a painful sob. _"Vash!"_ she suddenly screamed, her small shoulders quaking as she cried. _"Vash! I-Ich vermisse dich! V-Vash!"_ she called into the cushion of the chair. _"Vash, Ich brauche dich!"_

"I'm not feeling well," Alfred spoke up, keeping his face hidden. "I have to go." Without another word, he did as expected.

"A-America!" I called. "America, wait!" Alfred kept walking. "Alfred, please!" I hesitated for only a brief second, noticing with growing distaste the suspicious look on Russia's face, before I hurried after my brother. "Alfred, please don't go! Alfred!"

With that, he left and I followed calling out in concern. It was all moving along smoothly.

However, our plans were put in jeopardy when Russia's suspicious look after Alfred's dramatic exit was merely foreshadowing for what happened next. From the moment Italy's camera lens hit Alfred in the face, to the moment he stormed out of the meeting room, Russia had been putting the pieces together.

Having been abused himself on several occasions on top of being Alfred's former best friend, it shouldn't have been surprising he found out, and to be honest, it wasn't. It was just another pain in my ass. Russia figured it out just before Green put him into a coma. He came over the night after the unofficial meeting, positively enraged.

I remember creeping to my brother's bedroom door with Kumafargo in my arms towards the end of their argument, when Russia pulled himself together from crying. However, not soon after, he was back to being angry and nearly hysterical, while Alfred merely shushed him desperately.

"You can't tell anyone about this," he begged. "Please Ivan, you have to be quiet!"

"No! America, you idiot! This isn't right! It's not supposed to be like that!"

"I can handle it!"

"No you can't! Abuse isn't normal, you have to tell someone or…or I will!"

"Who are you going to tell?" Alfred demanded. "Who's going to want to help me? You?" Russia had silenced himself at this. "I knew what Stalin did to you, and I get how you're feeling right now, but there's nothing you can do! Just like there was nothing I could do for you!" I heard a sharp intake of breath, though from who I couldn't tell.

"I will not sit by and let you put yourself through this," I heard Russia hiss.

"Yes you will," Alfred snarled back. "I don't need your help and I don't need to be saved." I didn't bother to move as I heard Russia walk towards the door. It wasn't like he was going to notice me anyway. He opened it and walked right past me, his face set in an angry scowl, eyes red and teary. I entered just as the tails of Russia's scarf vanished around the bend in the hall to find Alfred glaring.

"He's going to tell someone, you know," he murmured. It wasn't a question, but a grave observation. I merely looked at him, part of me wishing Russia would tell the first person he met, but knowing logically I couldn't allow it. Reaching into my pocket I took out my cell phone.

"I'm calling Green to go ahead and kill Russia, but I need to do it as America."

"Wait, kill Russia? Now?" Alfred said, utterly surprised. I nodded. Alfred didn't say anything as I dialed Green's number for the night; it changed regularly. He was already my closest ally besides Purple, and I figured it was safe to reveal myself as America to him. He answered after the third ring.

"It's time," was all I said.

"A-America?" he stuttered. For once I was glad we were mistaken for one another.

"No, Blue. It's time," I repeated. There was a shocked silence which dragged longer than my thin patience allowed. "Get started!" I snapped.

"I-I don't understand," he stuttered. "Weren't you supposed to be…?"

"Targeted?" I finished.

"Well, yeah."

"I'll explain. Just do your job with Russia."

"But-"

"I'm not alone right now. Just do as I say and I'll explain everything."

"A-Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Are you ready?"

"Yes. Uh, hold on for a second, Blue," he directed nervously. Did I mention he also was a tad afraid of me? Not that I minded. I waited impatiently as distinct crackling of the phone being lowered came from the other end. I grit my teeth angrilly until the line clicked and Green's distorted voice returned. "Um, Black wants to see you after it. I'll be there as well."

"I should have figured as much."

"Um, I'm on my way now, don't worry."

"Fine." I hung up, knowing Green got the message, and turned to America. "Alright bro, looks like we have to switch for now. Black wants to see Blue with Green." America dipped his head in understanding.

"Double edged fooling. Black will think you're trying to frame me while hiding your identity, while Green will genuinely think you're America," Alfred said, standing up and removing his jacket. "Alright Matthew." I took off my tan hooded uniform and passed it to him before dawning the leather bomber jacket. We hurriedly arranged out hair to each other's styles and before I knew it, I was staring at an exact clone of myself.

"Don't forget Karmaslavo," I reminded, picking up the polar bear and handing it to Alfred.

"Who?" it asked, tilting its head.

"Kumajirou," Alfred reminded, punching my shoulder and taking the bear in his arms. "I'll see you in a few hours, bro."

"Be careful and don't do anything I wouldn't do," I warned. Alfred merely gave me his usual cheeky grin, so out of place, yet at the same time, totally at home on my face.

"Come on, Al, you know me, I always keep my head down!" he chirped playfully before heading towards his bedroom door. "I'll see you in a few hours, and don't worry, I'll take good care of Kumajirou." Unfortunately, as soon as I arrived on the scene after a short pit stop in St. Petersburg where I picked up two stragglers in Lithuania and Poland, Alfred had done something I definitely wouldn't have done.

He went in after Russia.

Now that's something I should have seen coming, considering Alfred and Ivan's history. One thing I admired about my brother was that if he considered someone his friend even just once, there was nothing he wouldn't do for that person when it really mattered. Russia was no different, but I that didn't stop me from being enraged at the thought of Alfred breathing in those gasses and passing out somewhere in the house. The idiot always viewed himself as a hero, even when we swapped places.

However, that didn't comfort me in the least. Alfred was the only one I trusted, the only one I felt I could confide in. He was my other half. The thought of being left alone, of facing these killers without him was enough to make me nearly lose my mind and blow our cover.

"Let me go!" I screamed struggling against the restraining hold of Lithuania and Poland. My eyes were locked on Russia's house. I paid no attention to Korea and Iceland crouched by a stunned China's side as they all stared at me.

"Alfred, please! You're my friend, I don't want to see you die!" Lithuania shouted. "I'm sure your brother is fine!" I flailed wildly, my heart pounding with thick, black terror. I couldn't give our switch away no matter what and ended up yelling my own name, careful not to break character.

"Matthew!" I wailed. "I'm the hero! I have to save my little brother!"

"Like, you're being totally stupid and all your struggling is wrinkling my clothes!" Poland complained. "You won't be anything but dead if you go in there!" I stopped struggling, taking ten seconds to calm myself before falling to my knees. "Like, we totally did it!" I heard Poland laugh triumphantly. "We saved a life!"

_Calm down, Matthew, _I ordered myself, staring wide eyed at the ground, trembling horribly as panic rose like a title wave within me. _Calm down. He's still immortal. He's not dead and nobody knows. Nobody knows you're not America._

"Alfred," I heard Lithuania say softly, before a gentle pair of arms wrapped me in a maternal embrace. "He's okay. Have faith in him." I wanted to scoff at that. Faith was nothing but a load of bullshit, and knowing my luck, Alfred found a way to get himself killed without having his capital destroyed.

"Toris," I whispered instead. "If he dies…I'll find a way to bring him back and kill him myself." I thought about my brother, how we now only had each other. If he died, I died. I needed him more than ever, and now that we were on even terms, now that he was finally aware of my existence, I needed his love. If he was taken from me, I knew it would be the end. I wouldn't be able to carry on. I'd kill every nation I could with no regards to myself or my people.

One thing about being a nation is that you can't afford to be selfish. You die, your people are left to fend for themselves and at the mercy of other nations, but I didn't care. This was the start of my detachment, the beginning of the end of my sanity. It was when my brother, psychotic and warped by a man who thought he was doing good, became my whole world. I wasn't acting as Canada. For all I cared, Canada was just a hunk of rock north of another hunk of rock known as America.

I was Matthew, and the only person I still cared about was wandering around in a huge mansion full of toxic fumes.

Then, as if my painful thoughts summoned him, the doors to the mansion burst open and out came Alfred with his shirt drawn over his nose and mouth, Russia on his back. It was as if a giant weight had been lifted off of me. He was alive and everything was going to be okay.

I ran to him, screaming my own name before nearly tackling him to the ground as I hugged him. I realized I had never been so scared in all my life. Even though I knew he was immortal, just the slightest possibility of losing him was too much for my deteriorating mind to handle.

"Please don't ever leave me here alone, I can't be alone again," I pleaded in a whisper, pressing my face into his hair to keep from crying. The fur of my own jacket caressed my cheek as I nudged my face closer. "Please." I felt his arms wrap around me, one hand stroking the back of my head.

"You know I won't ever leave you," he whispered back. "I love you, Mattie. So much." The relief was almost enough to make my knees buckle, but I held my ground turning away from Alfred to watch China's pathetic sob story as he begged Russia to wake up.

Eventually, China and Russia were taken to the hospital, along with Korea, who insisted the be there for China. Lithuania offered Iceland a place to stay for the night before he went home. Finally Alfred and I were left alone, which was where our disagreement about what he needed to do about Reynolds escalated to violence.

I just got so angry, and as I squeezed his neck tighter, my mind began to shut down. Not only did he almost leave me alone, but he was being prideful and stupid. I never asked him to endure this for me. He did it all on his own, but then as I thought, his hands fell away from my wrists and I saw the bruises peeking above the hem of my jacket. Instantly, I was disgusted in myself.

I was strangling the only person who gave two flying fucks about me. Granted, he was my brother, but he was somebody who loved me and sacrificed both his adoptive children and the integrity of himself and his boss to keep me as far away from the murders as possible. He understood I had no choice but to kill some. Then, he managed to choke out his old name for me and that was the sign to let him go.

"W-We're twins, but it's not fair I did this to you," he cried. "I shouldn't…I…" he couldn't finish and I simply held him close, feeling nothing but guilt. He didn't deserve this. He was risking everything for me, and I gave into my paranoia and fear by attacking him.

"Please stop crying, Al," I begged softly, wiping the tears he couldn't stop with my thumb. Even now Alfred is the crybaby out of the two of us, convincing me sometimes that I'm really the elder. I did want him to do something more to stop himself from being hurt, but attacking him only made it worse. Plus it made me feel like a monster. I was guilty and disgusted, and now I couldn't care less about Renolds. I only wanted him to stop crying. "Shh, Alfred, I'll do whatever you want," I finally whispered. "I'll do whatever you want, just please stop crying."

"M-Matt," he choked out through his tears.

"I won't tell, I promise, just please stop crying and let me take some for you," I begged. "Let me be America tonight." Alfred stopped crying at this, his entire body going rigid.

"What do you mean?" he asked apprehensively.

"I mean, let me take some of the abuse," I explained, lifting myself so that I was looking into his teary eyes. "Alfred, you don't have to do this alone." He said nothing, only stared, his mouth opened slightly. "We're brothers, we're supposed to do things together," I insisted. "Let Reynolds hit me too."

"No!" Alfred exclaimed sitting up abruptly, and gripping my shoulders roughly. "I won't let him lay so much as a finger on you! I'm the older brother, I'm supposed to protect you!" His eyes were still tearful, but it did nothing to sway my decision.

"We need to be identical right?"

"Matthew, no. The reason I let him do this to me was so that you would be as far away from the murders and killers as possible." Silently, I reached forward and brushed the hair away from the bruise on his face, letting my fingers run over it.

"But I _am_ a killer," I whispered. "You can't forget that, bro. No matter if I have no choice, I still killed your states."

"But-"

"I'm also going to kill Cuba," I continued over him. I let my thumb, covered with America's black glove, gently run over the discolored patch of flesh on his cheek. "I'll kill him because you want me to." Alfred's face changed then. It was no longer sad, but empty, whatever left of his soul extinguishing.

"He hates me," Alfred whispered, his eyes growing large and directing straight at me. "He and everyone else. Just like…just like Mr. Reynolds says. I just want it to stop, Matt. After I saved him from Spain, after I kept my promise about not annexing him, he hates me."

"I know, but you won't have to worry about that, bro. I promise." His eyes continued to glare through mine. He was an exact copy of me, only where I couldn't scare a bunny even if I wanted to, he looked downright lethal.

"You don't hate me, do you?" he asked softly, leaning forward. Despite the intimidating air he was giving off, terror was the most prominent thing I felt. Alfred knew he was running out of allies as the days ticked by, and though at times I hated my brother, I knew when the world did turn its back on him, I'd still be there.

"No, and that's why I'll kill him for you," I answered, still touching his cheek. "You're making the world hate you even more, framing yourself for me." America trembled, fiddling with the thick straps that crisscrossed my uniform.

"Mr. Reynolds started using a two-by-four," he told me. "Every time he brought it down, he'd tell me the name of country who hated me. Everyone's name came up. England, France, Vietnam, Finland, Denmark, Norway, everyone. He said the world hated me. He said I was bad, I was evil."

"If you're evil, then I'm evil too," I decided. Then I lowered my voice to soothe him further. "I don't hate you, Al. I never could even if I wanted to. You just scared me tonight is all."

"I saved Russia because he still cares about me as a person," Alfred whispered. "I knew when these killers started showing up that they all wished it was me who died instead of Switzerland. I knew it because I saw it in their eyes, they all wanted me to be next. You and Russia are the only ones who don't wish I was dead. I can't lose either one of you. And the board, I can still feel it, every time I think of a nation's name I feel it down my back, like fire. I-It burns." It was my turn to comfort him, and I gently pulled him to my chest, stroking the back of his head. "I wish they'd all just die," he whispered. "Just kill them all, Mattie. You were right. There's no need to pretend anymore." My eyes narrowed.

"I will only if you let me take some of the abuse," I said firmly. "I'll kill Cuba, but for everyone else, I can't let you take this alone." Alfred pulled back to look at me, to _really _finally look at me, something he never did before.

"You'll have to kill a total of four," he whispered. "Norway to frame Denmark."

"I know."

"Japan's alibi."

"I know."

"Cuba, who you'll confide in when Japan kills Reynolds."

"I know."

"And then the nation who witnesses the murder."

"I understand."

"Do you really?"

"I do." All was still for a moment, and Alfred gripped me tighter. He didn't want me anywhere near Reynolds, but his hatred for the other nations, coupled his own failing resolve against the abuse, was what allowed him to make the decision.

"Okay," he finally whispered, grasping my hand gently and rubbing the back of it. "Just kill them all." Our foreheads touched as we gazed into each other's eyes. As screwed up as it seems now, this was the first intimate moment we had shared in centuries. I finished by wiping his tears and stood, helping him to his feet.

"Starting tonight," I said, not releasing his hands. "Go back to my house and stay there until I say." Instead of balk from being ordered to do something he didn't want, he merely nodded.

"I'm sorry," was the last thing he said before turning and leaving me alone. Shortly after, Green appeared from behind the house, approaching me cautiously.

"Blue?" he asked, careful to keep a good distance between us. I didn't blame him for his sudden caution. If I had the balls to show him who I was either it was obvious he posed no threat to me, or I was seriously fucked up enough to not care if I was killed. So he didn't come any closer, merely hovering a few yards away like a moth to flame.

As I watched him watching me, something started formulating in my mind. Why wait until Reynolds' death to have the other killers know my identity as America? Before it had been to give me time to make the killers more loyal to me than to Black, but it was clear Yellow and White were not going to be swayed. The other killers didn't like me, but they all respected Green. If he told them to tell Black I revealed myself as Canada should our leader ask, they'd do it, no questions. They'd also be more partial to believe him if he was the one to tell them of Black's plan to kill them.

"When is Black getting here?" I demanded abruptly. Green sighed.

"He had to go number two even though I told him to use the bathroom before we left." Without another word, I gestured for him to follow me behind the mansion, where no one would see us.

"It's fine," I assured, keeping my pace steady. Green followed a safe distance away, as if I were a horse intent on kicking. Though he was my ally, he wasn't stupid, but he was paranoid enough to lay low.

"He's…he's really angry with me," the smaller killer murmured. "Russia was supposed to die tonight."

"I'm sure he'll forgive you."

"What have you been smoking?" Green demanded shrilly. "Black doesn't forgive!"

"It's going to be okay," I said a bit more harshly than intended.

"No it's not!" Green exclaimed, apparently hurt by my lack of compassion for his situation. "I failed, don't you get it? And it's because of that one country who looks like you!"

"Don't worry about it," I commanded.

"America, you have to help me! He wants to punish me! That's why he wanted you to be there, to show you what would happen if you failed. You and Yellow both!"

"Yellow's here too?" I demanded, my paranoia spiking as my eyes darted around the deserted area.

"Yes."

"Shit!" I hissed, rubbing my temples. I took a deep breath. I had to calm down and think fast before they got here. Yellow was my greatest adversary and if I didn't have Green convinced, I was screwed. "Look, I can probably talk Black out of punishing you, but you have to do something for me in return."

"You can?" Green asked, the hope in his voice still filtering through the distortion.

"I can try, but in return I need you to tell him that I'm Canada," I ordered. He tilted his head, his eyes hazing over with confusion.

"Who?" I had to resist the urge to lunge at him. Green was my ally and couldn't afford to jeopardize that under any circumstances. Besides Purple, he was the closest thing to a friend, no matter how wary of me he seemed.

"My brother," I reminded.

"Oh, okay! Will this explain why you're Blue when you're supposed to be getting incapacitated?" Green asked, sounding so innocent it was hard to believe merely a few hours ago he attempted to brain Russia to death.

"Yes. Green, listen. Black wants to kill you."

"M-Me?" he stuttered, his voice laced with panic. "I know I failed in killing Russia, but that wasn't my fault! America, you need to keep that brother of yours in line!" I could tell he was getting hysterical and walked forward to grip his shoulders. He tried to cringe away from me, but I was too quick.

"No, calm down!" I snapped. "He wanted to kill you before you even set foot in Russia's house."

"Me specifically?"

"No, everyone. And not just the nations. You, me, and the other killers too," I revealed. Green was silent for a moment.

"How do you know all of this?" he questioned suspiciously. Thankfully, I already had the lie in place, anticipating this kind of question.

"When he recruited me, we had a plan. I was going to reveal myself to you all as Canada to lower your guards, then when the other nations are dead, I'd kill you all."

"My God," Green murmured softly. "Why are you telling me this?" I thought carefully. I had to make this believable, but I also had to sound like America. I started slowly, making sure Green absorbed this information carefully.

"When Black recruited me, he convinced me we were bettering the world, but then he also told me it was for everyone's own good that I would have to deceive you all about my identity. You all are supposed to think I'm Canada, but I'm revealing myself now, to you, as America because I care about you and Purple."

"You do?" Green sounded touched. I almost felt guilty. Almost. Instead I gave him my brother's handsome half smile.

"You bet your ass I do. Black almost had me a hero thinking killing was okay, along with turning against my family." I made a point to gently pat the top of his head.

"America…"

"What kind of hero am I if I betray my family?" I felt Green tremble beneath my hands as he gazed up at me like an admiring child.

"So you want me to help you deceive Black?"

"Only because he's deceiving you, don't you see?" I insisted. "Green, listen to me, Black is insane. There's no pattern to what he's making us do. There's no reason, no logic, it's just senseless violence. I realize that now."

"But he says he wants to help the world," Green argued, although I could tell what I was saying was effecting him greatly.

"No, Green, he just wants to watch it burn, and we need to stop it from happening. So, when he and Yellow show up, you need to say I told you I was Canada then later fill Yellow in on what's happening. He'll believe you before he believes me. Tell everyone else as well." Green merely stared up at me now absolutely rigid. He was testing me, trying to see how truthful I was. "You know me, I'm the strongest nation out of the seven. He was going to keep me until the end and make me kill you. Now, if you tell him what I've just told you, he's going to kill me and you'll get whatever punishment he dishes out for not killing Russia."

"But that wasn't my fault!"

"Regardless, you want my help, I need yours. We clear?" Green let out a breath.

"Okay. I can't say I want to believe you, but I know you, America. I know you don't lie." Ha, that was a bullshit statement. America not lying was like a fat girl turning her nose away from a twinky, but that was Green for you, always blind to the evil in people he cared about while blind to the good in those he hated. It made him an excellent killer. "I'll tell Black you told me you were Canada."

"And you'll tell the killers what I've told you?" Green let out another breath.

"Fine, just help me out with this. If Black is really going through with what you said he, needs to be stopped." Then as if summoned by the devil himself, out came Black followed by Yellow. Now, surprisingly this little meeting was a lot less eventful than expected. Green lied through his teeth and Black believed him, making him the mouse in the most perfect maze. Black was pleased with my trust in the other killers, saying how happy he was about me turning over a new leaf from my initial resistance to joining the SLK.

"One question though," Yellow began. His voice was like nails on a chalkboard, even with the filter in his mask warping it beyond recognition. "Why are you dressed as America."

"Don't you see?" Black said excitedly, hanging childishly off of Yellow's arm. "He's going to frame America, that's how he plans to neutralize him! Everyone will think he's a killer so he'll have no allies, making it easier to destroy him. Isn't that right, Canada?" I smiled sweetly. This was too easy.

"Of course, Black."

"Oh, I'm so happy I could sing!"

"Please don't," Yellow said miserably. "It's bad enough you were singing "Moulin Rouge" this morning."

"Aw, someone doesn't appreciate the French language!" Black teased.

"No, I don't, but I don't see why Blue, or Canada, suddenly trusts us so much," Yellow observed suspiciously.

"Because I know big brother Yellow would never hurt me," I responded naively, making my eyes wide an innocent, a trait learned from America. "Right, Yellow?"

"Of course he wouldn't!" Black exclaimed. "We're family! However, it seems one of my children has been bad…" I won't go into detail about how I heroically convinced Black to not punish Green, mostly because I'm running out of time, but it wasn't as hard as I thought. The fact I had shown my identity so soon put him in a good mood. He was happy with me, and therefore would do pretty much anything I asked.

Yellow left shortly after to go torture China, something he was more than eager to get started on. If I remember correctly it was his 'pet project.' The sick fucker.

However, as uneventful as that meeting went, what was, was when I went to America's house. Reynolds was of course there, and I was greeted with a sharp backhand to the face. He wanted to know where I had been, and when I told him Russia's house, he lost his mind completely. I was given the pain America felt, as I was knocked to the ground and kicked. I felt the blood in my mouth and cringed as Reynolds grabbed a nearby flagpole. America had been enduring this for a year, convinced he was too strong for it to effect him.

Reynolds wrapped the flag around his hand like a patriotic glove, brandishing the metal part like a club. The pole came down on my back like a cylinder of fire, while Reynolds screamed.

"You sick little shit, after all I've done for you, you slaughter your fellow nations and your own states! Children! You're disgusting and a burden to your people! It's because of me they don't hate you! Without me, you're nothing!"

I bit back the screaming as I was jostled and kicked, long since hitting the ground. He was careful not to hit my face too much, every assault was directed on my back sides and chest, the toe of his dress shoe sinking inches into my gut. I wanted to throw up, but held back the bile, feeling the stinking wetness of blood through the gashes opening from the wounds inflicted by the pole.

"They hate you! Feel it! Feel how evil you are! You are nothing without me to guide you! I have to do this to protect the world from you!" Reynolds shouted, nailing me again in the ribs.

_You fucker, you're the one turning him evil, _I thought. I glared up at Reynolds, my vision blurring around the edges. I could have killed him f I wanted to. I wasn't America, therefore I had no obligation to his boss or his people. However, killing Reynolds right then and there would have done no good. America needed him for his plan, and better to deal with a human's wrath than the wrath of my brother.

So after being severely beaten, I was allowed to leave his office. In the halls as I limped to America's room, I ran into Delaware and told him if Japan ever showed up, that he was to show him there. Later I'd have Purple take care of him, but then he was exactly what I needed: innocent and trusting.

I went into Alfred's room and to the shower, taking off my bloody clothes and turning on the water as hot as it would go. I watched as my blood flowed down the drain, rusty streams snaking down the metal loops. I thought angrily as the warm water cleansed my wounds. Reynolds had gotten worse over the past year. I was finding it hard to breathe, my chest sore with every movement. If Reynolds was saying these things on a regular basis, it was no wonder America believed him. Despite Alfred's apparent disregard to other people's feelings, he was surprisingly perceptive when it came to opinions of himself. His recent drop in world opinion was making him self-conscious enough, but now with Reynolds beating him down both physically and mentally, it was clear Alfred was at the end of his rope sanity wise.

Now, a bit off topic, but not at the same time, Alfred and Japan falling for one another was never part of the plan, but in my humble opinion, it was the main reason Alfred went batshit crazy in the head. Someone besides me actually loved him (as distant and regretful as that love was) and he do _anything _not to have it taken from him.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Perhaps experiencing the abuse myself should have opened my eyes to what was it was really doing to him, that what he was asking me to do wasn't really what he wanted or needed.

The problem was, I didn't want to see it. Alfred finally wanted me, finally needed me. I wasn't just his copy, overshadowed by his every move. Though he took this on to protect me with no regards to how I was supposed to cope with him being hurt, I felt it was my duty to do as he asked without question.

That was my second biggest mistake.

I turned off the shower when the water was no longer red, and pulled on my jeans, wrapping a towel around my shoulders before heading out. I looked around Alfred's room for a moment, taking the mess, then down at my arms, covered in bruises and various cuts. Fucking Reynolds.

"America-san…what happened to you?" a voice suddenly asked from behind the T.V. I startled, looking around carefully and spotting a flash of white behind the television. At first I couldn't believe it, but there was no mistaking it. Japan was moving along with this plan wonderfully.

"Japan? What…are you doing in my room?" I asked warily, not exactly expecting him the night of China's attack. Then again, he wasn't too fond of China recently. I heard my little stalker let out a sigh before he revealed himself, his eyes huge on his delicate face. I watched his flesh grow horribly pale as he saw my wounds. Covering his mouth with a trembling hand, he let out a small cry before hurrying forward and turning me around to see the pole marks and lashes on my back.

Reynolds had done a beautiful job fucking me up and as I saw Japan begin to weep, falling to his knees, I felt a smile tug at my lips. This was just too easy.

"America-san, what…what happened to you?" he asked again as I knelt down before him.

"I'm being punished," I said softly. "By my boss." I then proceeded to fill him in on my missing states, making Reynolds out to be the monster who blamed his mistakes on me. Japan listened carefully, his eyes still shimmering with tears. "You have to promise me you wont tell anyone," I said urgently, gripping his shoulders. "Please Japan, no one needs to know about my problems, not when these killers are on the loose."

"But-" Japan began softly.

"Please," I begged, letting desperation leak into my voice. "Please, if you're my friend at all, please don't reveal what you've seen to anyone." Japan blinked slowly, his expression becoming unreadable. I began to fear he had seen through my disguise and knew I wasn't America, but all my worries were put to rest when he spoke again.

"If it is what you desire. I have no business interfering." He sounded regretful and even a little frustrated, but that was the effect I was going for.

"Yes, Japan. Thank you."

"But you must let me help you in some way," he continued. "Please, I will do whatever you ask." I thought about the next step of the plan, getting Japan to spend more time with Alfred, that way he'd be more inclined to get rid of Reynolds.

"You can fix me up a little," I suggested, giving him a sad smile. "You're welcome here anytime you want." Then I added with a quiet whisper, "He wont hit me when you're here."

"Oh, America-san," he said softly. "What am I going to do with you?"

_Save him, _I thought.

So that was set. Japan was going to show up as often as possible to treat Alfred's wounds and give him some company. The next day as Alfred and I met at his house and swapped back to our true identities, I filled him in about Japan and told him that I was on my way to capture Norway. He was pleased, to my surprise, more with the fact that someone was going to visit him, rather than that his plan was working. It made my heart break, really. Seeing my brother so excited.

Maybe he was just as lonely as I had been. Without thinking he leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead, before petting the side of my face, his smile fading when he saw the bruise there.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," he whispered. "Mattie, I'm so sorry you were put through this." I assured him it was what I wanted and reminded him of our bargain before I took my leave.

From there I headed to Norway's house, dawning my mask for the first time, and using the old chloroform technique as he was tending to his garden. I effortlessly carried him back to where I called Yellow to meet me. Once there I gave Norway over as a peace offering. Yellow was thrilled with something new to torture, and a chance to use his blood in one of his screwed up mind games he was playing with China. Before he'd been using pig's blood to write on the walls, but now he had an immortal nation he could bleed out, which made him in a disturbingly pleasant mood.

I was also extremely happy when he informed me Green had told him 'the truth' about my identity in that I was really America. Much to my even greater delight, it appeared my assumption about Green's influence had been correct.

Leaving Yellow with strict instructions not to kill Norway and to not set so much as a toe in Oslo, I laid low as he continued to ravage China's sanity, eventually forcing him to kill the nation of Nussia, who Alfred and I met when Alfred insisted he go see how Russia was recovering in his coma.

White then made his move and killed Italy's brother, then Purple picked off and emotionally wrecked Spain. I'm wasn't sure what their motives were. All I knew was that they were picking up the pace in their race to pile up the most bodies.

Alfred summoned me to his house the night of Romano's murder. I learned from Delaware he wasn't in and wandered around a bit to find he and Japan frolicking together in the woods. Well, Alfred was frolicking, Japan had just crawled out of the stream looking nothing short of a drowned rat. The two had grown closer ever since our first switch and as I watched Alfred climb out after his new friend, I saw he was genuinely smiling for the first time in a year.

A year of being beaten and called worthless, and he still had the ability to smile…

For the longest time, his eyes had been dull and burdened. He'd been angrier with his remaining states, depressed even. It was only at World Meetings he kept his jolly appearance. Yet Japan, just by being with him, was making him laugh and smile like he used to.

"I-I th-thought y-you s-said you cou-couldn't s-swim," Japan stuttered through chattering teeth.

"I lied," Alfred said simply. Japan's eyes narrowed as America burst into giggles again at the sight of the other nation's less than happy expression.

"Really? Well, in that case," Japan began, lifting one hand and pressing it to Alfred's face and shoving him playfully back into the stream. I let out a chuckle of my own as Japan laughed wildly as Alfred sputtered and struggled to the surface.

"I'm glad to see you think it's funny!" Alfred snapped, finally crawling out of the water. Japan got upset and Alfred began to speak softly so I could no loner hear them from my place hiding behind a tree.

"Will it help if I told you I've been thinking about the killers too?" That I heard, and I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck. What was Alfred trying to pull?

"It depends," Japan replied, his voice surprisingly even.

"Well, the night you were stalking-"

"Spying!" Japan interrupted. America merely continued on with his 'theory' about Poland being involved. Hey, I can't say the idea is too crazy. For all I know, Poland might very well be a killer, but that's not my place to say. No, I realized Alfred was trying to lead the detectives in a different direction by pointing the finger at someone else.

Little did Japan know, _I _left the horse hair after Switzerland was murdered so he would grow closer to Alfred, eventually going so far as to kill Reynolds. He was just a pawn on Alfred's chessboard. Yet, as I saw Alfred wrap Japan's shivering frame in his bomber jacket, I saw the most tender expression on his face. His eyes, so cold and calculating around me, were warm and fiery, what they used to be.

"America," I murmured softly, my voice lost in the thick brambles.

"Hey Japan, you want to head back to the house? I have to drop a leak!" he exclaimed, just as the two began walking. Japan blinked up at him, Alfred's jacket nearly going to his knees.

"Drop a what?"

"I'm about to piss myself, my friend," Alfred educated, his voice serious before his mouth cracked into another grin. "Go on in before you freeze to death! Don't want you seeing Florida, do we?"

"Florida?"

"Yeah," Alfred laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "Don't tell her I told you that joke. She_ hates_ it and will pitch a fit."

"So you're going outside?" Japan asked incredulously. "That's so…weird." Alfred merely let out a silly chuckle before nudging Japan along.

"Go on, I'll catch up!" The smaller nation simply stared at him oddly before doing as told. Alfred waited a few moments to make sure Japan was really gone before finally coming to me. His eyes once again grew cold, and the person before me was no longer Alfred.

I didn't care.

He still looked like Alfred.

That was good enough for me.

"Alright bro, time for this next step!" I said. This part of the plan I had come up with. It worked sort of like insurance. Let me explain as easily as possible:

Alfred and I have scars on the opposite shoulders. Mine is on the left. Alfred's is on the right. I had told Alfred not to let Japan see his chest, for if he saw the marks differentiating us, it might definitely throw a wrench in our already complex plan.

Besides having my wounds treated, this switch would serve to make America's role as a killer set in stone. As America, I would show Japan my scar and explain its origins. That way, if Italy decided to investigate Canada after I lured him to the secret place and killed the four nations in front of him as America, I would show him the scar if I became cornered, sealing my identity as America. Easy enough, right? Like I said, insurance just in case.

"Be nice to him," Alfred said.

"You know I will," I replied, touching his arm and beating back a wave of jealousy. America was my brother, my twin, but it was never in my nature to be selfish. In the end I kept my mouth shut, just like I always have. "I see how happy he makes you. I wouldn't ruin that," I said instead. Alfred placed his hand over mine and gave me a pathetic half smile, my inner feelings not penetrating him in the least.

_Twintuition is bullshit._

"I know, bro. Thanks."

"It's nice to see you smile again for real," I commented softly. I meant it too, but it still upset me that Japan, someone completely different, was able to make Alfred happy, when I, his twin brother, only seemed to make the rage inside grow deeper. Now I see that what I mistook for love was really a need for what I was able to accomplish. I was America's little pit bull, ready to kill at the snap of his fingers.

If I had seen it then, perhaps I could have saved him. Maybe if I fought harder against my own self-pity and codependency I could have seen Alfred was in a hell that was turning him into something he devoted his existence to destroying.

Abuse does that to nations. Russia still hadn't recovered from Stalin, and though he had endured it much longer than America had, my brother wasn't as strong. Even then, when I was selfish and allowed him to get beaten to hide my killing, I saw it. I just didn't want to do anything about it.

"I'm scared for you," I whispered softly. Alfred took a step forward and leaned against me, shivering from the cold, but also from what I detected as fear.

"I am too," he whispered. I could have said something then. I could have gotten through in that one moment of weakness and told him that I wouldn't kill for him. I could have stood up for Cuba as one of my few friends and refused Alfred.

But I didn't.

I didn't say anything, merely brushed the hair out of his eyes and gave him a look that said, "Hold on for just a little longer." With nothing else to offer, except a dry coat to keep him warm, I made my way out of the woods without him to greet Japan.

"Sorry I took too long!" I called cheerfully, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

"No, problem," Japan replied. "You were actually very quick." I sank into my brother's persona, adopting his happy-go-lucky view of the world and tried to harness the obvious warmth he had for Japan. Though I didn't feel it past my burning jealousy, I was able to fake it.

"Ha, well let's get inside before you die of hypothermia!" When we made it back to Alfred's room all was quiet for awhile as Japan began his work, diligently cleansing my wounds, before he asked,

"Are you actually going to let me see your chest this time?" I complied, assuring him, just as Alfred would, that it wasn't bad. He merely continued his work.

However, after awhile the cloth stopped moving and I felt a small hand rest on my shoulder. I looked down to find Japan staring intently at the scar I most wanted him to see. He absentmindedly ran the tips of his fingers over the marred flesh. It tingled a bit, for Japan's hands were still cold from being dragged into the river, but I couldn't say the sensation was totally unpleasant.

"Canada did that," I spoke up, causing Japan to startle. He looked up at me, his cheeks turning bright red when he realized I had caught him staring.

"Canada?" he asked in disbelief, then frowned. "I'm sorry, but who is that again?" My eyes darkened involuntarily at the familiar chide. Of course he didn't know who I was. No one did, yet here he was trying to take away my brother. It took all I had not to simply lunge and strangle him much like I did to Alfred the night Russia was attacked, but I remembered we needed him, and calmed myself.

Japan noticed my startlingly dark expression and grew alarmed. However, just as he was about to open his mouth to apologize, I realized my folly and hurriedly gave a reassuring grin.

"He's my brother."

"Oh!" Japan exclaimed, realization dawning on him. "Your brother, the one that looks like you, right?" I gave a soft laugh, doing my best not to sound condescending.

"We're twins, so of course we'd look alike." Japan was silent for a moment, before he smiled back.

"I see," he said, lowering his eyes to continue treating the newer gash across my chest, but letting them flicker to the scar every so often. "That looks so serious."

"Yeah, it was the war of 1812," I said. "When he burned down the White House." Japan looked up just as my face truly saddened. "We hurt each other a lot."

"It must have been hard."

"Yeah, it was," I murmured, careful to keep character, yet at the same time letting my true feelings out. As fucked up as this venting was, it still helped, in a twisted sort of way. "I hated fighting him. One, because he's my little brother and that's never fun, but also because, believe it or not, he kicked my ass a good few times."

"That's hard to believe, although I know you're not lying."

"Nope, I'm not. Canada's really strong, and in some ways, I actually look up to him." I flushed a bit, thinking of my brother's now rare smile. I never thought he'd stop, but then I never thought he do something so horrible to himself just to keep me from the killers. "I mean, he hangs out with that Cuba guy, who I think is a total jerk, but the point is, he can make friends with nations I can't, mostly because he hides his awesome, unlike me. I give him a lot of trouble though because he feels the need to explain my actions to other countries, when he doesn't even understand them completely himself. Still, he puts up with me, and I respect anyone who can do that."

"You really care for him, don't you?" Japan observed, letting the cloth move down my stomach. It was a bit awkward, but I coped.

"Yeah, I do. Canada and I are part of the handful of nations who are truly related." Japan looked up again, surprised.

"Really?"

"Mm hm." I nodded. "Canada and I used to consider ourselves one nation, before England took me and France took him."

"You mean with your native people?"

"Yeah, parts of us used to be owned by many different tribes. Some territories stretched through both of us, although many migrated to me when Canada's winters became too severe. We used to have the same name because we were always together."

"What was it?" Japan asked, truly interested. I thought back on our mother's people, how they loved us even though we were not conceived in love. We were half-bred creatures that would later turn against their own mother and her people, shoving them back to reservations.

"It depended on the tribe what they called us, but I forgot all of them," I answered, my tone subdued. "England made sure of that, but I can't lay all the blame on him since Canada and I went a long with it just as well."

"I heard about some of the things, like the Trail of Tears," Japan replied, averting his gaze uncomfortably and taking the ointment in his fingers.

"I still haven't forgiven myself for that one," I murmured. Japan merely focused on rubbing the ointment into the injury on my chest. It smelled awful and it stung like a bitch, but it would keep the infection away. "So many died."

"I can't judge," Japan said softly, capping the ointment and lowering his eyes to the washcloth. From there we talked further and I found that America and Japan shared many of the same qualities. I could also tell he was acquiring feelings for Alfred as well.

_Well, I have a feeling this is going to go to hell in a hand basket. If Japan becomes indispensable to Alfred, that means even more people are going to end up dead, _I thought. Little did I know how true that statement would turn out to be. Removing the icepack from my bruised eye, I placed it on the dresser and stood before Japan.

"Hey, Japan?" I asked, intending to gauge his true feelings.

"Yes?" he managed to whisper out. I pursed my lips in thought. It was clear he and Alfred shared something. Perhaps not something completely grown, but something that was enough to make Alfred smile again.

My suspicions of Japan's growing feelings were confirmed as I reached out my hand and touched his cheek. He froze, his eyes owlish and full of something not quite adoration, but getting there. My eyes became slits just as he turned to hear his damaged phone vibrating from the window sill. He apologized to me before hurrying over to answer it.

It was a hurried conversation in a language I didn't understand, nor did I care to. I knew who it was. Yellow was playing his game of cat and mouse with China I knew wasn't anywhere near completed. Yellow had simply planted the poison in China's mind by forcing him to kill Nussia, now he was letting it rot and fester before taking the final blow.

After a prolonged moment, Japan hung up and turned to me.

"Who was that?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"Taiwan. Nussia is dead," he said gravely.

"Seriously? Wow, poor little guy." _Little shit better not have gotten blood on my hoodie._ "China must be devastated. I was there when he broke off from Russia." Then I added to make it seem like an afterthought, "That's two nations in one day, they're starting to pick up the pace."

"Yes, but for now that has to wait. Apparently China was stabbed and now he's in a sort of emotional coma," Japan stated. "I better get over there. I'll return your clothes as soon as possible." Japan gave a bow and started to leave the room, though I made it clear I intended to follow him. He and Alfred needed to spend as much time together as possible if this was going to work.

"I'll see you out!" I declared cheerfully, though inside I was on edge. This might prove to not only be challenging, but outright dangerous. Better show Japan America had manners, he seemed the type of guy to enjoy that kind of thing. "What kind of host would I be if I just let you run out of here all by yourself without at least saying goodbye?"

"You're very kind."

"Nah, blame England for filling my head with all this manners crap when I was a kid."

"Why would I blame him for creating quite the gentleman?" Japan was teasing, something I've never seen the robotic tool do before. With slight surprise, I saw a flash of mischievous playfulness in the other nation's eyes. Japan was _flirting_ with me. Okay, well really he was flirting with Alfred, but still.

"Pfft, I'm no gentleman," America's voice proclaimed from my mouth. "I just like you and want to stay with you for as long as possible." Oh God, flirting _back_ with Japan was so awkward.

"Well, here we are," I said as we came to the front door. I was about to let Japan out and return to the woods for Alfred when I heard the monster's voice call from his office.

"Alfred, you didn't tell me we had a guest!" In that moment, I had to resist the urge to kill him. I wanted to so badly, but besides my murderous cravings, there was also terror. If I made Alfred look bad, Alfred was going to get beaten. That would make him worse, more angry, and scared. I blinked as Japan introduced himself, fear finally overtaking me. I could stop myself from doing anything to make Reynolds angry, but I surely couldn't stop Japan. "President Henry Reynolds. So what brings you across the pond, Mr. Japan?" I felt the bastard's huge hand on my shoulder and had to keep from turning around and spitting in his face.

Unknowingly, he was creating not just one monster, but two.

"I wish for America-kun to accompany me to Asia," Japan explained, succeeding beautifully in keeping his voice even. I looked up in suprise. "China was recently attacked and already The Republic of New Russia has collapsed."

"I see, and were you going to tell me about this, Alfred?" President Reynolds questioned.

"Yes sir," I replied automatically. I felt crippling fear overtake me as Reynolds gripped my shoulder harder, irritating the bruises there.

"Dear me, you're not dressed for a meeting."

"Yes, America-kun wished to show me something in your forest, but I slipped and fell into a stream, so America-kun is letting me borrow his clothes."

"Oh, so you brought such an important visitor into the woods alone?"

"I apologize." _I swear to God if you beat Alfred, I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you where you stand!_

"I really must be going, so if you don't mind, will America-kun be accompanying me or not?"

"Of course," he said, placing his other hand on the small of my back and pushing me forward, probably saving up the round of hitting for when Alfred got back. It made me seethe inside. "We'll just have a talk about how to treat guests when you return, Alfred." Japan grabbed my hand after that, pulling me away and out the door, as far away from Reynolds as possible.

However, it wasn't me that needed saving, it was Alfred, and although it pained me greatly to admit it, perhaps a few days alone with Japan would be good for him. However, my grudging admittance was promptly cut off, for as soon as Japan led me down the porch, he pulled me into a very unexpected hug. My eyes widened at this unwarranted display of affection, and I looked down at the top of Japan's head in utter disbelief.

"Don't be scared anymore," he murmured softly into my chest. "Forgive me for interfering, but I can't let him hurt you." My chest suddenly hurt. Japan really did want to help, and I felt somewhat guilty for deceiving him. This was survival, but..._playing _with someone's feelings like this...it...it was something I promised I'd never do to another person. It was cruel and unforgivable, yet here I was, being embraced by someone who cared not for me, but for my brother. However bad I felt, there was nothing I could do, and I awkwardly patted Japan's back.

"It's okay," I said quietly, almost uncertainly. I thought, with a bitter taste in my mouth, that getting him to kill Reynolds was going to be a cinch. Alfred was working him beautifully. After what felt like an hour, the taxi Japan had called in advance arrived, yet I didn't make a move to follow when he released me and made to get inside.

"Um, I forgot something in the woods!" I explained as Japan turned around to give me an odd look.

"What exactly?" he questioned.

"My key," I lied smoothly. "If I don't have it, I'll be locked out. Hold the taxi, I'll be back!" Before Japan could protest, I had retreated back into the woods, until I found Alfred again, his face solemn and plotting.

"How did it go?" Alfred asked, taking his jacket from me.

"Everything is set up. Norway is captured and Denmark is next," I replied.

"Good then, we'll move on to the next stage." After a brief exchange I can't even remember, he left me standing alone. I watched him go, feeling as if I were unleashing something terrible into the world.

* * *

Yaay! The answer is on it's way, again, we're trying to keep it as short as possible. So in your opinion, is Canada a good narrator? Each killer will narrate their answer when the time comes. Oh, and did I mention, I HATE FIRST PERSON *snarlsnarlsnarl* meaning I HATE THIS ANSWER!!! *shoots self*

So, we also have a poll! Did this story convert you to liking JapanxAmerica?

Oh and there's another fanfic of our fanfic :D "Never Too Late A Seven Little Killers Songfic" it's in our faves and is a lovely oneshot that explains Japan's feelings beautifully.

Shout outs :D

**korikori, Sedian9410, SsmilyfaceE, Anon, LightBender, Kendall N.S., bettyhime, CaCoPhOnY Of ScReAmS, marialeiah, dragoneian, The Metal Cervidae, xYukii, LupinandHarry, Art And The Akatsuki, Kari Kurofai, Moonstreakneko, Canadino, ficfan3484, nagihachan, kudjiboy, CanadianCookie, Half-Blood Warrior Kitty, hurleysuki, marmoki, AntonioAndRomano4Ever, Marie the Hedgecat, Meeting Paranoia, EvilAnimeGoodness, Reaper-Lawliet, Tinkeroftime, EmoLollipop, Victoria Wan, AikoujOi, and...**

**Kuragari Rya, **


	36. Eye Opening Chapter: Demon Twins III

I'm almost done. I can feel freedom in the horizon!

**Disclaimer: Hetalia would be a horror movie if we owned it. **

* * *

After Romano and Spain's funerals, which took place after Japan and America's visit to China, Denmark was captured and taken to one of the SLK bases. Iceland, who was with Denmark at the time, was tortured and targeted so Denmark would agree in admitting he was a killer. Meanwhile, as my brother was off courting Japan, I began searching for a place that would serve as a temporary holding place for all the nations I was going to capture and eventually kill.

I decided it needed to be close to my house, yet somewhere remote at the same time, where no one would hear the screaming. I decided to make up my shed at my secret home in outskirts of the city of Dawson, knowing it was the perfect spot. It was cold and, despite being a popular tourist attraction because of its former status as gold rush town, most had been scared off due to the record low temperatures.

However, even though the weather was serving as extra protection, it wouldn't have mattered anyway. My house was relatively isolated and hard to find if you didn't know where to look, which no one did. Deciding this was Norway and Denmark's new home for the time being, I took out my phone and dialed Purple's number.

Giving him the coordinates and assuring him Canada was staying in Toronto for the winter, I left the shed, knowing that I couldn't be there when Purple arrived. Blue was supposed to be America, and at this point, all the killers knew Reynolds was keeping his nation under his thumb.

Not long after Denmark was placed, I got a call from America, who told me he found a new location to store all the nations and where I could eventually lead the detectives. He described a cave with a river running through it: a perfect place to dump bodies. It was near one of Japan's less frequently used houses. I kept it in the back of my mind, knowing it would come in handy later.

Black had been present at Spain and Romano's funerals and called me during the wake, informing me what Japan, Italy and Germany planned to do next, which was interrogate Lithuania. I ordered the other killers to drop Iceland close to Lithuania's border and make him feel like he escaped. It was a stretch that he'd actually run into the detectives, but lo and behold, my luck held out and the poor sap made it to Vilnius.

Everything was going according to plan so far. Norway and Denmark were now held captive, and all that needed to happen was the final event that would push Japan into killing Reynolds.

I thought it was going to be a challenge, seeing as Japan wasn't stupid and never rushed into a big decision. However, this quickly became the least of my worries after Alfred threw a fit at the World Meeting. At first I thought he was acting, hoping to gain Japan's sympathy, but my heart instantly froze when I realized he wasn't.

Seychelles almost hit him in the face, and it threw him into a blind panic. Never, even after watching scary movies, have I ever seen Alfred look so utterly terrified.

"What the bloody hell has gotten into you?" England demanded, taking a swift step forward. It was here I heard the most horrible scream I have ever heard to this very day. It was because of this I knew he wasn't faking. My own wounds inflicted by Reynolds still burned, but America had been coping for a year and then some.

"I'm sorry!" he screamed, his hands reaching up and tangling in his hair as tears began to trickle down his cheeks. His knees shook as his frightened eyes scanned the entire meeting room, glassy and huge. "I'm sorry!" he repeated over and over like a broken record. "I won't do it again!"

"America," I said, utterly horrified by the obvious extent of the emotional damage. Alfred didn't appear to hear me, backing away from the staring faces. His knees trembled horribly with each unsteady step until his back hit the wall where he slid down, hunched on his knees.

I could only watch, my heart pounding in my throat while nausea rose. This was the very definition of wrong. This was absolutely sick, but I found myself frozen, unable to do anything. The horror increased as a darker patch began to spread across the carpet from where Alfred was sitting.

I felt as if the entire universe had come crashing down. Alfred didn't even notice, still sobbing, his fists tangled in his hair while a chorus of whimpered 'I'm sorrys' rose from his curled and shaking position.

"Ugh, he pissed himself!" I heard Cuba shout in disgust. From there something within me snapped. I had agreed to kill Cuba, but I never really comprehended it. Now, just for that outburst, I wanted nothing more than to rip the head off of his shoulders. How dare he?

I thought about it; killing him right after this meeting without confiding in him about Reynolds. Yet, I restrained myself. I had to wait. I knew I had to control myself no matter how angry I became. I'd been doing a good job so far, despite the fact I wasn't my brother's twin for nothing, I could stomach the burning aggression.

"Cuba, please don't start," I hissed instead. America had pissed himself in front of the entire world, utterly destroying any dignity he had hoped to maintain in that single moment. As I glared at Cuba, screaming for his death in my head, I knew I would kill without looking back.

Sure I had said it before and I had even agreed, but the only difference was now I would enjoy it. Everyone who looked upon my abused brother with disgust was going to die, starting with Cuba.

"Sorry," Cuba offered. I didn't relax, but I released him from my glare and turned around in time to see England make his way over to Alfred, pulling him into a hug after he screamed and struggled. Not long after, while England attempted to calm him, I joined, hiding my teary face in his shoulder.

"Forgive me for not be able to do anything sooner," I whispered into his jacket. "Forgive me, because it will all be over soon, I promise." England didn't hear, far too concerned with keeping Alfred calm and not flailing around.

I was correct about the end drawing near, and after instructing Red to track Japan's calls, I found he was on his way to Hanoi, unknowingly adding Vietnam to the list of nations going to die. Honestly, I hoped it wouldn't be her. She was the only nation I knew of who was able to defeat Alfred, and I knew from the moment I had Green relay the information of their plan, it was going to be a tough battle.

In the meantime, while Japan prepared his assassination, I bribed all the staff and security at the theater China's boss was going to show them, along with those in the shipyard.

However, I needed more information: like what the meeting was about and who, along with Reynolds and China's boss, Xi Feng, were attending. I made it to my brother's house to ask, and was again told by Delaware that Alfred had been in his room all day. I felt a horrid sensation settle in the pit of my stomach like a lead weight. Something was happening up there, and I knew it was going to be horrible.

I hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time. On the way, I passed maids, servants and Tony, who was carrying an aluminum tanning sheet, probably on his way back from the roof. I burst in, calling Alfred's name, but found that his disorderly room was empty. Still, I knew Alfred was there, and as I listened closely, I faintly heard retching sounds coming from the bathroom.

"Al!" I cried, nearly panicked. I burst through the door in time to see him hunched over the toilet seat, hacking up a stream of blood. "Alfred!" I screamed, moving too quickly and loudly, causing him to jerk his head up like a startled doe and cringe away from me.

"Don't touch me!" he shouted, scrambling against the tub away from the toilet. I halted in my tracks when I saw the outright terror in my brother's eyes. I took a deep breath to calm myself and crouched down to make myself smaller, less threatening.

"Alfred, it's me, I'm not going to hurt you," I said softly. My eyes fell to the rim of the toilet seat, sprinkled with droplets of red. I felt a lump rise in my throat, but swallowed it. I had to be the stronger one now. I tried to reach my hand out again, but was met with the same violent scramble. "Jesus Christ, Alfred it's me!" I cried, losing my patience and becoming desperate. "You know me! You know I would never hurt you!" He shook his head, tears beginning to fall.

"No, you don't understand," he whimpered. "I'll…I'll make you dirty."

What I felt right then was comparable only to a burning harpoon thrust through my chest. Alfred wasn't scared _of_ me, he was scared _for_ me. My sadness was turning into anger, but it was abruptly cut off as another neglected thought made itself known.

At first glance, this was obviously all Reynolds' fault, but then I thought deeper. I made the choice not only to join the SLK, but to drag Alfred in with me. Sure the plan was all his stupid idea, but I knew my brother well enough to figure out he would rush into helping me with little to no regards for his own safety.

So really, this was all _my_ fault.

It made me want to die.

_I_ was the reason Reynolds was acting this way, because I couldn't handle the problem myself. _I _was the reason no one knew what Alfred was going through, because I didn't have the balls or courage to defy my older brother and tell someone.

There were plenty of instances where I was given the chance. One moment in particular stood out. I could have told England the day Alfred broke down at the World Meeting.

Hell, England _asked_ me about it, begging me to tell him what was wrong, but I didn't. I kept my mouth shut, going along with things because I was told to instead of standing up and doing what was right. The blood in the toilet, the bruises on my brother and his newly forming hatred for himself and the world…

…was all my fault.

"Damn it, Al!" I shouted, surging forward. He panicked and attempted to shrink back, but I grabbed his wrists, anchoring him in place.

"Let go!" Alfred screamed, trying to wriggle away and turning his face to the splotchy tiles like he was ashamed. The movement exposed his neck and the fresh bruises and cuts. I grit my teeth. "Let go, Matt! Let go! Let go!"

"Shut up!" I snarled, jerking him roughly. "Look at me!"

"Mattie-"

"Don't you 'Mattie' me! Look at me!" Alfred shook his head, biting his lower lip. "Look at me!"

"I c-can't!" he wailed, still trying to free his wrists. "I can't!"

"Why not?" I asked, utterly exasperated.

"Because…"

"Because?"

"I…I…"

"Alfred, please look at me," I begged softly, softening my grasp on his wrists. Once more he shook his head, the line of blotchy bruises coating his throat glaring at me mockingly. "Why not?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Because I don't deserve to."

"What are you talking about, stupid?"

"I-"

"Damn it, look at me!" I yelled as my frustration returned, releasing one of his wrists to grasp his chin and force his eyes on my own. It was so strange and wrong that my vibrant and confident brother could no longer look me in the eye. However, when I saw his face, empty save for fear, I suddenly wanted to scream. This wasn't how it was supposed to be! We were supposed to stop the killers together! We were going to overthrow Black and stop his apocalypse.

"I don't deserve to," he whimpered before the floodgates opened and he downright sobbed. "I don't deserve to look at anyone! I'm filthy! I'm bad! I'm…_evil_." The word 'evil' was the final nick in his armor, because for Alfred, the word 'evil' was the polar opposite of the word 'hero'. A hero was Alfred's self-identity, his reason for being himself. If that were taken away…

"W-Why are you saying these things!" I cried, my chest feeling as if it were on fire.

"Because it's true!" Alfred sobbed, tilting his head back. Texas wasn't on his face, but resting on the floor nearby, leaving his eyes open and vulnerable. "No one loves me because I'm a…a…pig!"

"Alfred!" I cried, releasing both hands now and cupping his face so he couldn't look away. "That's not true!"

"Y-Yes it is! J-Japan doesn't know! Japan will hate me when he knows and I…I don't deserve him! No one who knows what I've done loves me!"

"No it's not, because _I_ love you!" I declared. "I love you as my best friend, my brother. Fuck," my voice broke. I was too upset to be surprised by my swearing. Usually Alfred was the one to swear, but my emotions were getting the better of me as I scooted closer to my battered twin. "You're my other half," I breathed shakily through my own welling tears. "I need you more than anything. I love you so much and nothing you could ever do will change that." He only stared at me. "You…we were born together, Al! I don't care if I've been overshadowed by you, I don't care about all the bad things you've done to me, because that's all in the past! You're not evil, you're not dirty and you're not bad! You make mistakes just like everyone else."

All I got was a strangled whimper.

"You're the only one who matters to me now," I whispered. Alfred's face twisted for a moment before he finally let everything out, falling against me and bawling his eyes out into my chest.

"I'm sorry!" he cried, voice muffled. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Shh," I shushed, pressing a comforting kiss into his hair. "I'm here and I always will be." I wasn't sure how true that statement was, but I knew it was something Alfred needed to hear.

I released him as he began to cough roughly. He was instantly back to the toilet, puking up alarming amounts of blood. The death of his states coupled with the abuse was starting to take its toll. All I could do was settle myself behind him and gently rub his back.

"Matthew," Alfred finally said once his retching and puking calmed. With one arm still on the toilet bowl, he weakly turned his head. "If you…if you are killed in all this…" he closed his eyes and took a deep shuddering breath. "If you die, know I won't be far behind. You're the only one who loves me."

"That's not true!" I argued. "Japan deeply cares about you and I know England and France love you too!"

"They don't know what I've done," he answered miserably. "They don't know I planned this all out. You do. You know and you still love me. If the others found out, they'd all abandon me." He lifted a trembling hand and placed it on my cheek. "So know if you die…I'll follow you."

"Hey, bro," I murmured, covering his hand with my own. "We're going to make it, so don't say such sad things."

"Just so you know, I won't be able to live if the other half of myself dies. I'll be with you always and I will follow you always." The tender look on his face as he delicately ran his thumb over my cheek was pure and genuine, making something heavy throb from behind my ribs. This was my real brother, the one I had known all my life, who I was born with. Little did I know, this was the last time I would ever see him again, because right after he gave me such a sweet smile, the dark hate overtook him for the final time.

"Alfred…"

"I will…because I know you'll make them all suffer for what they've done to me." His pupils were merely pinpricks of black against icy blue disks. No longer did he look pathetic and beaten, now he was back to dangerous and wild. His miserable smile morphed into a leering grin, lips coated with crimson. "Just so you know, bro," he repeated, before continuing to puke up trails of red.

Later when the morbid vomiting stopped and I forced Alfred into bed, I learned that Finland was going to be accompanying he and Reynolds to Hong Kong, and automatically figured he was the one who needed to see the murder and disappear. I had nothing against Finland, and I don't think Alfred did either, or at least, I didn't think he did before Reynolds convinced him the world was out to get him. Finland was just a sacrifice for our survival.

Never did I think about what it would do to Sealand or Sweden, and that night as I dragged Norway's limp, bloody body into my shed, I didn't once think about Iceland or Denmark.

"Norway!" Denmark shouted as I appeared, my mask securely over my face. It was an ugly thing I didn't like to wear. Plain with glittering sequins placed around the eyes, every time I wore it, it felt as if it were slowly devouring what was left of who I was. Though now I know it wasn't the mask, but myself. "What did you do to him, you sick fuck!" Denmark's voice was loud and grating and I bitterly wondered why the other killers didn't gag him.

"Blame Yellow, not me. I brought you company, aren't I nice?" I said sarcastically, tossing Norway over to where Denmark lay securely tied up, though his mouth was regrettably free. "Figured you'd get lonely being in this big, old, freezing shed by yourself, though I'm surprised a polar bear hasn't come by and eaten you by now. After all, Canadians are known for riding polar bears to work and school."

"It would be better if one had!" Denmark snarled as he struggled to make his way over to Norway. With no sympathy whatsoever, I kicked Norway closer, earning another angry growl from the struggling nation, before he turned all his attention back to his unmoving friend. "Norge, Norge, can you hear me? Norge, come on buddy," Denmark pleaded, his eyes growing panicked when at first there was no movement. Then a sickeningly wet cough escaped the unconscious country's chest. I watched silently as Norway groggily opened his eyes, his blond hair sticking to his cheeks and forehead from all the blood.

"D-Denmark?" he questioned hoarsely.

"You're alive," Denmark whispered, his voice strained and shaky as lowered his head to press his forehead against the other's. The snow drifting in from the cracks in the wood had wetted his usual spiky hair, making it fall across his eyes and cheeks.

"W-Where are we?" Norway questioned, looking around the bare walls of the shed, although too weak to actually move his head.

"Someone's shed, but don't worry," Denmark assured softly, doing his best to keep from crying. In my opinion, out of all the Nordics, Denmark is probably the most manly, but seeing Norway flayed so badly was too much even for him. "It's going to be okay, I won't let them hurt you."

"Unfortunately, he's going to die," I spoke up, removing the mask. Denmark instantly lifted his head to glare at me, his face twisted in an angry scowl.

I guess Alfred and I share the same flashy attitude deep inside, it's just I don't get to use mine often considering I'm more soft-spoken and shy. However, I knew now was the time to shock and amaze on top of offering Denmark an ultimatum.

I smirked as his face paled with shock. Even Norway, on the verge of passing out, let his mouth fall open.

"A-America?" he asked. "No, it…it can't be."

"That's right," I confirmed. "I'm one of the seven nation-killers."

"But what about all your talk about being a hero? Why did you do this to Norway?" Denmark demanded.

"H-He didn't," Norway murmured softly, hissing a bit in pain. "I-It was…the y-yellow one. He hung me upside down and…" Norway trailed off, his usually stoic face, twisted with agony. "And I couldn't…die."

"Oh God, Norge," Denmark breathed. "America, why?"

"There's nothing I can do. He's going to die and I can't change that," I said simply. "However, there's something you both can do for Iceland."

"Leave Iceland out of this!" Norway suddenly snarled, attempting to lunge at me, only to tumble to his side, coughing profusely from his wounds. I shook my head like a mother who had just watched her toddler attempt to walk for the first time, only to have the poor thing fail miserably.

"Yellow told me he cut you pretty deep," I spoke up. "It's amazing you're even still conscious."

"Don't you dare hurt Iceland," he hissed, blood dribbling from the corners of his mouth unnoticed. I merely let out a sigh.

"Well, whether I do or not is up to Denmark," I explained, crossing my arms.

"Me?"

"That's right." I gave a curt nod. "Norway is going to die by your axe. Now, unless you want Iceland to die as well, you need to be the one who admits to doing it."

"Screw that, hamburger boy!" Denmark shouted, fury, fear, and pain all mixed together in his shrill voice. "You aren't killing Norway!"

"I'm not, you are," I corrected.

"No, I'm not!" Denmark yelled. His eyes glared into mine, full of defiance. I would have admired it if there weren't much more pressing matters.

"Søren," a defeated voice whispered. Denmark tore his gaze away from me at the sound of his human name. He bit his lip as Norway reached up a shaky hand and touched his cheek. "It's okay. I'll go. I'll go for Iceland."

"No, Norge, no," Demark pleaded, lowering his head again to press his cheek against the other's chest. "I won't do it. I don't care what they do to me. I'm not going to…to kill you!"

"We've fought each other plenty. Besides, think of your people," Norway advised, his voice a mere rasping whisper like a dying man's breath.

"And what about yours?" Denmark shouted, his voice echoing in the expanse of the cave. "What about them? What are they supposed to do without you?"

"You'll take care of them," Norway answered, his voice unnervingly calm. "You always have before." Denmark's eyes narrowed with pain and he shook his head.

"I won't do it!" he declared. "I won't!"

"Then I will," I said simply. "Only I won't make it painless. I'm not too handy with battle axes. It might take me a couple swings." At this, Denmark's face paled. I thought for sure his defiance had run out and he was preparing to faint. However, it appeared I underestimated him, for he shook off the ill expression and looked directly at me again.

"I'll tell them everything! I'll tell them you did it!" Denmark yelled. "I'll tell the entire world what a sick bastard you really are, United States of America!"

"Then Iceland is going to burn. Reykjavík will fall and…" I quieted, letting a cruel smirk play across my face, "it will be all your fault."

"I hate you." Denmark lowered his head to stare at Norway again, who's shallow breaths were becoming more so. "I hate you for what you've done."

"That's understandable."

"Why are you doing this? Do you even know?" Denmark gently brought Norway's head into his lap and used his thumb began to stroke the dying country's bloodied cheek. There was so much love and sadness within Denmark's eyes and for a moment, my heart clenched painfully. But it was only for a moment.

"Have I ever known what I'm doing?" I said. "I bet my idea about genetically engineering a superhero to save the world doesn't sound quite so stupid now, does it?" Denmark didn't answer me, didn't even look up. He was murmuring to Norway in his own language. Norway reached up and grasped his hand. Everything between them was so tender, so loving, as if everything they wanted to say in the past hundreds or maybe even thousands of years was being said between them now.

"Either you do it, or I will. And how about this, I'll make you a deal, because everyone knows I'm such a philanthropist. If everyone finds out that I'm a killer, I'll tell everyone I was the one who killed Norway, but the chances of that happening are slim, and I need you two to keep the heat off me," I explained. "See this lovely mask?" I held up the accursed thing. "This is yours Denmark. My plan is to frame you as the killer, Blue. Pretty generic, huh?" That should keep the killers happy.

Denmark said nothing, and instead glared at me hatefully, keeping himself over Norway in a feeble attempt to protect him.

"You're going to testify against yourself and admit to killing Norway," I revealed.

"Who says Norway is going to die?" Denmark demanded.

"Fate," I answered simply. Denmark continued to glare daggers at me and I let out a sigh. "Here are your choices: you kill Norway, tell everyone you did and have Iceland spared, or you don't kill Norway, I'll do it for you and make you watch as I kill him slowly, then drag your ass to Reykjavík to have you burn with it, how does that sound?"

"Søren, it's okay. We…have to…" Denmark continued to shake his head. Norway's light blue eyes became slits with annoyance and he weakly lifted his hand to stop Denmark's movements. "Listen…to me…it's okay."

"No it's not!" Denmark wailed. "It's not okay at all!" However, even I could tell as well as Denmark that Norway was barely holding on. Already from his place on the floor blood was seeping from beneath him, much like the urine had done from Alfred's quaking legs. The comparison was a horrid one to make, but it was there. Norway's chest was rising and falling shakily, and he closed his eyes. "Norge! Norge, you have to stay awake!"

"It's too late for me," Norway spoke softly, bluntly ignoring Denmark's anguish. "Save Iceland." It came out like a command. "And," his eyes opened, now warm with affection, something completely alien on the usually stoic country's face, "I'd rather it be you." At this, Denmark's expression crumpled, and again he lowered his head so his cheek rested on Norway's bloody forehead.

I watched silently, biding my time. Denmark had to be the one to kill Norway because to the killers, it would appear that when I planned to frame him, he'd testify and would be less likely to withdraw his words if what he spoke was the truth. Plus, I was tired of killing.

"Okay," Denmark said, his voice hollow and defeated. "I'll do it. I'll do it to keep Iceland safe." I merely bowed my head in a single nod before standing.

"I'll leave you two alone to patch things up. There's somewhere I need to be." With that I left, securing the door to the shed with a padlock and sticking the key in my pocket. I left Norway untied, knowing he wasn't going anywhere, and, on Alfred's urgent order, made my way to Hong Kong just as he and Reynolds were. Red, my official Japan stalker, told me Japan planned to lure Reynolds away from his guards and kill him after the three hour play by the harbor.

I got there just as he was leading Reynolds to his death. I flipped open my cell phone, careful the light was unable to be seen, and texted Alfred.

_I just got to the shipyard. J is leading R to spot. _The answer came not two seconds later.

_F is drunk, convincing him 2 give J advice. We r walking there now._

I let out a breath and pocketed my phone. Though jet lag was a bitch, I was trying to stay awake by giving myself a few good slaps to the face. However, my fatigue was quickly forgotten, and I squirmed with dreaded glee when I saw Japan's katana rip through Reynolds' jugular. I watched that bastard twitch and bleed for the final time, keeping to the shadows as Japan disposed of the body. All was going to plan. My phone vibrated from within my pocket, and I hurriedly took it out to receive the text.

_We r here._

Sure enough, as planned, Finland was standing by the gates awaiting Japan's emergence from the shipyard. I stayed a little behind, dawning my mask in case one of them should see me. Alfred was nowhere to be seen. The air was slightly nippy, while the pungent, fishy smell of the ocean permeated my nostrils, somehow serving only to agitate me. I watched as Japan froze in surprise while a tipsy Finland weaved a bit.

"W-What are you talking about, Finland-san?" Japan laughed nervously. "You sure are acting strange." Finland merely gave his trademark kindly smile, cocking his head and crossing his arms behind his back. Japan was starting to lose his composer, not that I could blame him. Even I admitted that if I were in his shoes, I'd be freaked out.

Still, there was a job to do and Finland was harmless. With this in mind, I readied the chloroform rag.

"Am I?" He gave a light giggle. "Perhaps I had a bit too much wine. I'm just glad you'd _never_ kill anyone, right Japan?"

"Of course not!" Japan answered abruptly. "Killing is immoral." Japan was a terrible liar, which was the primary reason shit went to hell in the first place, but I assume it came with his 'honor code'. Nothing to hold against him, but a hindrance nonetheless.

"It is. Even for a man who hits his nation and breaks his ribs. Even when he makes his nation think he deserves it and brainwashes his nation into denying anything is happening. If someone were to tell everyone else about what that boss was doing, no one would help that nation because they all love the boss, and they'd believe the poor nation when he says nothing is happening, and the poor nation would be _all alone_. So you'd have no choice but to kill that _bad_ boss." I couldn't have said it better myself, and for a brief second, I regretted eventually having to kill Finland. "It's a shame we can't see the stars in the city." Wow, old Tino was a creepy drunk. "But if you were to kill someone like that, no one would ever know because I'd never tell. Just remember to hide the evidence and burn the clothes, okay?"

"O-Of course," Japan agreed, though I saw the hasty smile on his face. "That is, if I'd kill someone-which I wouldn't!" he added abruptly.

_Smooth recovery, Japan, _I thought sarcastically.

"You know, Su-san and I love each other very much and I'd never want to see anyone hurt him!" Finland exclaimed suddenly, almost excitedly. "I was there when America lost it at the World Meeting and just sitting _close_ to his boss was _super scary_! Even more scary than Su-san!"

"He didn't seem like a good man at all," Japan noted. Finland hummed in agreement, twirling lightly as a breeze rolled by.

_Wow, not only is he a creepy drunk, he's a creepy/gay drunk._

"Mmm, and when someone you love is being hurt, it's your job to protect them!" Finland stated. "Su-san protects me and I him, and when we can't protect each other we hurt really badly. If you love someone, it's your duty to do your best to make sure no harm comes to them and when harm _does_ come to them," Finland's eyes narrowed, his smile grew into a dark grin and his voice quieted, "you get rid of the thing that's hurting them." I hesitated. Those words struck something within me. If someone you loved was being hurt, it _was _your job to protect them.

Like it was my job to protect my brother. Which by this point, I had already failed and let him destroy himself.

"I'll see you around, Finland-san," Japan replied anxiously, bowing. He noticeably picked up his pace as he hurried away. "I have somewhere to be." Finland's grin relaxed, but he continued to smile placidly, turning back to face the opening of the shipyard gates. I wound up my muscles, ready to spring, the chloroform dripping to the salty concrete below.

"Good luck," Finland murmured softly. Just as Japan disappeared around the sidewalk, I sprang like a leopard from hiding, tackling Finland backwards. His head smacked the concrete as I forced the rag over his nose and mouth. His eyes widened in a mix of terror and shock as his fingers clawed at my wrists.

It was a doomed effort, for along with my brother, I was physically stronger than any nation alive. Finland didn't stand a chance, and in only a few moments, his eyes dimmed and he passed out, his legs kicking pathetically for the final time before he lay still, splayed like a fallen crash dummy.

"Good job, Matthew," a dead voice said from my right. I jumped a little, standing and stepping away from Finland's body in time to see someone I barely recognized emerge from the shadows cast by a nearby streetlight.

"A-Alfred?" I gasped, lifting the mask. My brother limped profusely, his eyes blank saucers. Strands of blond hung in front of them like dreary curtains as he stopped before me.

"I had to get him out here quickly when you sent the text," he told. "After Reynolds escaped, I had to make it look like we went to go find him."

"You bribed the staff to tell the investigators you and Finland split up, right?" I questioned. Alfred gave a nod. "Good." With that, I bent forward, scooped up the unconscious nation and stood with him on my shoulders.

"Where are you taking him?" Alfred asked. I couldn't get past how horribly empty his eyes were.

"To my shed," I answered simply. "I'll move them to that cave you mentioned when the time comes."

"It's a good spot," Alfred said. "Plus near Japan, which puts even more blame on me." I flinched at the uncaring flatness in his voice.

"H-Hey, bro," I reached out my hand to touch his shoulder, only to have him shy away from me. My face obviously appeared hurt, for he gave what was left of his 'oh shucks' smile. It was the tentative smile he always wore when he was caught red-handed doing something wrong or if he was genuinely sorry. It was rare, and the closest my brother ever got to an apologetic expression.

However, it had all the effect of a full out apology, even this broken and sad one. It made my eyes sting.

How often had he given Reynolds this smile, only to be hit? Though the smile faded, and he was back to the emotionless statue.

"I can't hold out much longer."

"I know, just go home and rest for now. Japan should be on his way."

"Delaware's dead, isn't he?" Alfred asked listlessly. I let out a shaky sigh.

"By now, probably. Purple is taking care of him as we speak." Alfred gave no reaction.

"How do you plan to get rid of the last 39? You need to kill them fast, because I'm going to be in the hospital, and I know Japan's not going to leave me alone for a second." I thought for a moment, remembering the cave Alfred mentioned and where I planned to transport the captured nations. Something grim came over me, and I knew exactly what I was going to do.

"Don't worry," I finally said. "You go home, leave your states to me."

From there, Alfred returned to his room then left for his house without Reynolds. I dumped Finland in the shed with Norway and Denmark, who were huddled in a corner together for warmth, before rounding up the rest of the states for their last 'family outing'.

"Dad, where are we going?" Ohio asked nervously.

"Why aren't Alaska, Hawaii, and Delaware coming with us?" Florida questioned.

"No time," I said. "Come on! Hurry, hurry, or we won't make it!"

"Hey, Pops, just tell us where we're going!" New York demanded. By this time, the entire party was following me to the cave.

"We're in Japan, going to explore a cave," I answered shortly. It was hard for some of the smaller states, like Rhode Island and Maryland to keep up, but I forced them onward.

"Papa, my feet hurt!" California wailed. "And it's too cold!" I ignored them, reciting the directions Alfred gave me in my head until I found the cut in the hill.

"We're here," I announced. What I did to them once they followed me in was unspeakable. I herded them deeper and deeper into the tunnel until we were face to face with the rapids. A few cracks in the ceiling gave us a bit of light on the foaming gray water. "Come on guys, line up," I directed.

"Right on the edge?" Vermont questioned warily. "Papa, c-can't we fall in?" Pennsylvania gave a hearty laugh, looping an arm around his brother's shoulders. He reminded my so much of how Alfred used to be, and I felt my fingers clench tighter around the handle of the hidden Mr. Cleaver.

"Come on, bro! Stop being such a wuss! There's obviously something cool in there if Dad wants us to get so close. Right, Dad?" Pennsylvania asked, stepping right up to the edge of the water.

"Yeah, something cool," I repeated. They all looked at me earnestly, Maryland huddling close to Georgia in nervousness.

"Papa, I'm scared. This place is so big and the water is so loud!"

"It's fine, Princess," I soothed, reaching into my backpack and taking out a large pile of rope. "Kids, we're going to play a game." I tossed the thick coils to the ground with a thump. The states all stared at them like deer in the headlights.

"Pops…what is this?" New York asked warily. I gave a bright grin.

"We're going to play pirates!" I exclaimed. "I'll be both the evil captain and the brave hero who comes in to save you!" They looked at each other apprehensively. It was clear they trusted America. They saw him as his father, but even they found this so-called game strange.

"How are you going to play both?" Florida asked.

"Come on you pansies!" Pennsylvania declared. "Dad obviously knows what he's doing!" Leave it to Pennsylvania and his blind faith to save me.

"That's the spirit!" I cheered. "Tie each other up so I can heroically save you from the evil Capitan Redbeard!" They obeyed, and in a short time, they were all kneeling by the edge of the river. I finished by tying up Pennsylvania before taking a step back. Maryland was still quivering, and Florida's eyes were wide as she snuck fearful glances at me.

"Dad, are we playing now?" Montana asked, his voice strained and scared. Silently, I took out Mr. Cleaver and immediately, Maryland gave a scream.

"P-Papa, what's that!" she wailed.

"Oh, this is only my sword!" I exclaimed, giving a grin. However, now I couldn't fool them, they were all looking over their shoulders, utterly terrified.

"Pops, is that real?" New York exclaimed.

"Yes," I answered. "Now, let's play. Oregon, North Dakota and Maine did."

"Oh, sweet Jesus!" Virginia breathed. "Dad, you didn't…"

"It's time for you all to be punished. You're all such bad children, ignoring your father and fighting each other." I walked over to the end of the line, where Colorado was tied, his head shrinking into his shoulders in his attempts to make himself smaller.

"D-Dad," he stuttered. Arizona was next to him, looking at me in horror. "C-Come on, w-we don't like this game anymore! Y-You're scaring Maryland!"

"Adrian," I sighed, running the pad of my thumb over the edge of the blade. "You disappoint me so." I raised Mr. Cleaver, my eyes growing hooded as I shut down all emotions or rational thought.

"NOOOO!" Arizona wailed, as I brought Mr. Cleaver down, decapitating Colorado in one quick stroke. She screamed unintelligibly as his blood sprayed the side of her face, before Colorado's body slumped into the water with a splash. "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!"

Maryland's eyes were simply blank circles, her mouth open and lips quivering. Arizona was shrieking, tears running down her face. I wiped the blood off my cheeks with the back of my hand. "I tied him up. I tied him up. I tied him up," Arizona sobbed repeatedly.

"Don't worry, you're joining him." I went down the line, decapitating every single one, quick and cleanly, until I got to Pennsylvania. He was still glaring at me defiantly, despite watching his family's headless bodies fall into the river.

"You're not America," he said accusingly. I merely scoffed.

"Denial is such a funny thing," I mused. "Your head's going to roll, kid. Pissing me off will only make my strokes less clean."

"You should be ashamed of yourself!" Pennsylvania snarled. "You just killed a bunch of kids! Wow, you sure are a tough guy."

"I don't expect you to understand, but let's face it, there's nothing I can say to make this any less painful." I lifted Mr. Cleaver for the final time.

"Why did you kill everyone?"

"Because I hate kids." I brought the blade down.

The following day, Alfred met up with Japan and taken to the hospital shortly after Yellow (under a lot of pleading from Purple) took out Alaska while I ended Hawaii.

Once in the hospital, Alfred and I were careful to be alone at least once. I called Japan, 'warning' him of Alfred's strange behavior. Then, as Italy and Germany were investigating Nussia's murder, I had Yellow and Purple plant bombs and detonate them. It was meant to lure Japan away from Alfred's bedside, giving me two days to kill Cuba and capture Vietnam.

"I'm sorry for covering Canada in red," I said to Cuba's dismembered corpse, uncaring of the bullet wound in my foot. I was completely numb by this point. I had Red fabricate a voice recording and instructed Green and Pink to leave it at the scene while I lied and said I was on my way to capture both Canada and Vietnam.

"What will pointing the finger at yourself accomplish?" Pink asked.

"Trust me," I said simply. "Once all eyes are on America, I plan to swap roles with Canada so I can hide in plain sight."

"Who?" Pink questioned. I gave a sigh.

"My brother."

"Oh. Well I guess that makes sense."

From there I went into isolation, claiming someone was stalking me after I found Cuba dead. With all eyes off me as usual, I made my way to Hanoi and with great difficulty, captured Vietnam. Ordering Green, Red, and Purple to destroy her capital, I added the final nation to my captives.

Norway had not recovered. In fact, he seemed worse than before, constantly shivering, not even the warmth Denmark attempted to provide with his own body stopping it.

"None of you have to worry," I said, making sure my face as America was visible. "It's all going to be over soon."

"I should have known it was you!" Vietnam snarled. "After what you've done!" I withdrew a roll of duct tape from my jacket and tore off a piece with my teeth.

"Shut up," I said flatly, placing it over her mouth.

All was quiet for awhile. Alfred told me he was moving in with Japan to finish recuperating, and I merely pretended to be okay with it. In the mean time, I relayed the directions to the cave to Green, Pink, and Purple, who were going to transport the captured nations there when I gave the word. I planned to take Denmark myself, since he was the strongest of the four, and the one most likely to give them trouble.

I watched the news and found Alfred and a few other nations were helping with the relief effort in Hanoi. Korea was on the death list, for Purple was expected to keep the killers' momentum going. By then my foot was a swollen mess from where Cuba shot me, and I had no choice but to accept Purple's offer to treat it.

I told him not to hurt Greece, Japan, Germany, or Italy, for I needed them. Though partially true, sparing Greece was only for Japan's sake. Japan was the only thing that made Alfred happy, and I knew if Greece were to die, it would change him for the worst, leaving Alfred with no support besides me.

However, all this quickly changed when shortly after Japan departed for Hanoi, I received a phone call from someone who I now know wasn't my brother.

"He lied to me," the dead voice informed from the other line.

"Alfred?"

"Who else would call you?" I felt a lash of hurt, and bit my lower lip. As if sensing this, Alfred gave a slow sigh.

"I'm sorry, that was mean."

"No, it's okay," I answered softly, still a little hurt, but pushing it to the side. "What happened, now?"

"I asked Japan about who was going to Hanoi with him and he lied. He never said Greece was going to be there." The dull voice broke and the hurt and betrayal Alfred obviously felt came out. "I don't understand why this hurts so much."

"I'm sorry, bro," I murmured softly, wanting nothing more than to go comfort him.

"It's alright. I'll live." He didn't sound very convincing and obviously realizing this, changed the subject. "In a little more than a week Ottawa is going to fall, and we'll make the big switch," he observed. "Looks like I go down in the history books as a villain." his voice suddenly cracked, and I thought for sure I heard suppressed sobbing. Though I guess that was wishful thinking on my part.

"Yeah." There was silence for a moment. I felt anger begin to swarm over me. This was all Japan's fault, the lying sack of shit! If he realized how much Alfred positively adored him, how lucky he was to have that adoration, he'd hold onto my idiot brother and never let go. "Is there anything I can do?" Alfred gave a bitter laugh.

"Not unless you can go to Hanoi and spy on Japan. Though if you do find something out, please don't tell me. I…I can't take it, but why else…why else would he lie to me?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I'll see what I can find out." I made my way over to Hanoi once again, bad foot and all, in time to see Red leading Japan, Italy and Greece on a chase to Korea. There wasn't much to report, but I vowed that Japan would pay. He'd pay for what he did to my big brother, and I planned to be there and watch.

Afterward, I returned to Dawson, looking down at the hypodermic needle Red had prepared for me. I pressed the plunger a bit to rid it of air bubbles and undid the padlock to my shed. I stepped in wordlessly, grabbing Denmark by the hair and yanking him away from the far right corner where he, Finland, Vietnam, and Norway sat huddled.

With little struggle, I stabbed the needle into his neck, sedating him. Norway was far too weak to fight or even let out a vocalization of protest, his blue eyes milky and unfocused as his body shivered indefinitely. Finland began to cry from behind the duct tape gag, while Vietnam roared with angry rage. Ignoring them all, I reached into my pocket and withdrew my phone, ordering Purple to take Norway, Red to take Finland, and for the toughest out of the three captives, Vietnam was assigned to Pink and Green. They were to take them to the cave Alfred had found.

Finally, I called White and Yellow, explaining to them I intended to capture Canada and told them to meet me in Toronto to grab Denmark. Of course, Yellow being Yellow, asked why exactly I had to take Denmark with me. Patiently, I told him 'finding' Denmark was going to be my excuse for seeing Canada. The only time Alfred ever really went to visit me was if he needed something or had important news to share. Needless to say, if I as America merely trounced over to Canada's house for no reason, it would tip my clever brother off that all was not as it seemed. Buying it, though grudgingly, Yellow agreed and hung up.

Silently, I dragged Denmark out and headed to Toronto, intent to finish this. Though it took two days, I arrived in time to find Alfred waiting for me. "What did you see?" he asked immediately, only sparing the unconscious Denmark a quick glance.

"He was with Greece and Italy both," I reported. "He was chasing Red."

"Did you see anything else?"

"No. They left early because Purple killed Korea." It was a bland report, but then again my findings weren't that exciting. We swapped clothes wordlessly and it wasn't until I felt the first wave of pain that I knew Ottawa was being vanquished.

"I need to tie you up," I said softly, trying to keep my mind off the pain. Wordlessly, Alfred sat down and allowed me to restrain him. He watched me as I stumbled to the phone, picking up the receiver. I dialed Japan's number and, much to my relief, he picked up.

"America, what is it? What's wrong?" he demanded.

"Canada was…Canada was attacked!" I cried.

"What do you mean attacked?"

"Yesterday, he came over to drop Tony off and he was limping like crazy! It looked like someone had beaten him up, but he wouldn't answer any of my questions and just left! I-I couldn't stop him!" I stared down at Alfred and the unconscious Denmark, pleased to see Alfred giving me a proud look.

"Well, where is he now?" Japan asked.

"I don't know! I don't know where he went after that and he wouldn't answer any of my calls! I even called England and France, and they said they saw him not too long after I did, but they couldn't get a hold of him either! I'm at his house now and he's not here!" I faked crying, and Alfred rolled his eyes at the cheesiness.

"America, please calm down, I'm sure he's okay,"

"J-Japan, Canada's gone!" I screamed into the receiver. "I-I told him you killed Reynolds and now he disappeared! I think he might have told Cuba about it too, and that's why Cuba was murdered! I'm so sorry! It's all my fault! I'm sorry! I-I c-couldn't keep it to myself and I told!" I faked a sob. "Now my little brother is gone and someone else is dead because of me!" I jumped as the table the phone jack was resting on abruptly moved with a loud thump. I looked down in time to see Denmark had awakened groggily and kicked the table. I grit my teeth as I brought my foot down roughly on his side. The half conscious country gave a muffled cry and promptly stopped moving.

"What was that?" Japan questioned. I bit my lip, trying to think of an excuse. "America, what was that sound?" he repeated more urgently.

"Kumajirou is going insane!" I cried, using the first one that came to mind. It was so stupid I had to stifle giggles despite myself. "He's running around aimlessly. God, Kiku, it's all my fault I shouldn't have told. I never should have dragged Matthew into this. I-If anything happens to him…" I trailed off, forcing my laughter down, breathing shaky and strained. "I won't ever forgive myself."

"Alfred, don't worry. We'll find Canada," Japan promised. Wow, he was such a fucking liar. No one would look for me if I vanished. It was ironic in a way. I was the gun and Alfred was the trigger, you can't have one without the other, yet I was only good enough to be used in an empty promise.

Suddenly, the full frontal pain of Ottawa's collapse hit me, and I fell to the ground, with a scream. It was the worst pain I had ever felt and I closed my eyes against the lights whish were suddenly blinding.

"Alfred?" Japan called desperately. "Alfred, what's happening? I'm coming over!" Abruptly my screaming cut off, replaced by the sounds of me choking roughly until a splattering sound caused me to finally open my eyes to see the blood.

"W-Washington!" I finally managed to breathe out. "Oh, God, they're destroying Washington!"

"Where are you?" Japan demanded, his free hand anchored tightly on the armrest of the chair .

"Mathew's house…in…in Ontario," I answered breathlessly. "Hurry Kiku, I'm scared! I-It hurts so much!"

"I'll be right there, just stay calm and try to breathe!"

"O-Okay," I gasped roughly. I thought about the lie, about what he did to Alfred, and found myself wanting to know the truth. Was he worth all this effort? Did he truly love Alfred or was he just with my brother out of a sense of obligation? To test this, I let out a breathy, "I love you."

"A-Alfred, I-" Japan began, but I drowned him out as I gave a pained snarl, a particularily painful stab hitting right between my shoulder blades.

"Fuck! Shit, this fucking hurts!" I forced myself quiet, biting back a round of screaming. Japan didn't speak for a moment, and I wondered what he was going to say. Would he return the sentiment? I waited in anticipation, exchanging a glance with Alfred, who was staring at me with an almost nervous look.

"I'm sorry, I'll be over soon," he whispered before hanging up without another word. I stared at the receiver for a moment, listening to the blaring dial tone. Japan was a bastard. Japan was a liar. He was a fucking liar. I looked at Alfred, feeling my heart break, and shook my head.

I saw something unravel behind his eyes and he looked down at the floor, his hair blocking his eyes.

I slammed the phone on the hook, before jerking Denmark by the hair and Alfred by the back of his shirt. I dragged them outside. From there I met Japan, and as revenge, I told Greece about Reynolds. I had nothing against him. It was just a scare tactic I thought wouldn't be turned against me since I was the one killing everyone who knew.

It ended with Japan slapping me hard in the face, but it was worth it and as I faked my tears and went home with Japan, I felt a growing sense of dread overtake me, my stomach sinking. Yellow had done as I asked and brought Alfred and Denmark to the cave. Yet, while Japan, Italy and Greece were saying goodbeyes, I sneaked back to find only four out of five nations there.

Denmark, Vietnam, Finland and Norway were still unconscious, but my throat tightened when I saw the snapped ropes sprawled on the ground like rotted snakes. "Shit!" I hissed, glancing around the tunnel to find Mr. Cleaver missing from where I told Pink to place it.

The realization of what was happening sunk in, and I ran, my mind going white with panic. Throughout my entire rant to Greece about Japan killing Reynolds, Alfred had been in my backyard waiting for Yellow to come get him.

He heard the entire thing.

From me revealing the ugly truth, to Japan jumping to Greece's defense and slapping me.

"Fuck!" I shrieked, tearing out of the cave and back to Japan's house in time to see Greece pull away in a car. "No," I breathed. "No, no, no, no, no!" I darted past Japan's house, ignoring the agony caused by Ottawa. I pressed on, running for what felt like hours, my lungs searing with agony. "S-Stop!" I panted, feebly waving my arms. "S-Stop."

I had to catch that car. I had to get Greece and protect him. Alfred was going to kill him. I had to stop it. I had only meant to scare Greece and Japan, I hadn't meant for anyone else to die. I killed states, and I was going to kill four nations, I didn't need another, and imagining Alfred killing someone…it was unbearable.

Suddenly, a dark shape bolted out from between two buildings and ran headlong into the side of the car.

"NO!" I wailed, as it gave an iron shriek, lifting off the ground and spinning in midair before landing squarely on its wheels. It rolled several times before coming to a complete stop on its hood. I paused, catching my breath. Alfred was wearing the mask, Mr. Cleaver shining in the car's dying headlights. I approached as Greece crawled out of a broken window. "Greece!" I shouted, picking up the pace again. He turned his head weakly.

"A-America?" he asked. With growing horror, I saw Alfred slowly make his way around the car, raising the cleaver again.

"Greece, run!" I shouted. Greece turned in time to see my brother approach and instantly forced himself to his feet, running towards another cluster of buildings. Alfred followed like a shadow of death.

I chased them into a meat processing plant and wasted no time in running inside, calling my brother's name. He'd torn up everything inside like a damn missile. Papers and desks lay overturned, while deep gouges from Mr. Cleaver crisscrossed over the walls. I was only thankful no humans were there, for I was sure Alfred would have cut them down without a second thought.

I ran into the main part of the factory, merely following the broken security cameras. I looked around the twisted machines and dangling hooks, then craned my neck back in time to see Greece warily walking on a giant iron catwalk mounted above the factory floor. His eyes were too busy scanning the area for America to notice my entrance.

"Greece!" I called, running to the stairs that led up to the catwalk.

"America, what is going on?" he called back. Suddenly, from behind him and between the twisted pipes, I saw a flash of blue.

"Alfred!" I screamed desperately just as he lunged out of the shadows and body slammed into Greece. The light blue of my mask caught the deathly overhanging lights, illuminating a crazed anger and envy from within the eye holes.

Greece let out a scream of terror as Alfred bulldozed him over the safety rails with his shoulder. I only watched in horror as Greece fell headfirst, flinging his hand out in time to grab onto the edge of the metal walkway. I looked below Greece's hanging form to see how far the drop would be. Yet, instead of smooth factory floors, what I saw was something out of a horror movie. Alfred had shoved him over a hideous machine with rotating blades. It was a meat grinder, and if he were to lose his grip…

It was growling and humming like a dog begging its master for a dangling treat. Alfred got to his knees and looked down at his victim, his hair falling around his hidden face. Greece grit his teeth, but quickly calmed his fear and flung his hand up, one finger catching in the eye hole of the mask and tearing it away. Alfred didn't react to his identity being exposed. Instead, he merely continued to stare, the putrid yellow lights casting darkness under his eyes.

"Y-You!" Greece exclaimed. Without a second thought, I raced up the stairs just as Alfred raised Mr. Cleaver above his head. My shoes pounded on the grated metal as I stumbled before gaining my balance.

"Alfred, no!" I screamed, throwing all I had into my final lunge. I tackled him to the side, Mr. Cleaver clattering a little ways down the walk. Alfred gave a small grunt with the impact, but otherwise didn't react. He simply stared up at me with his hollow eyes. It gave me the creeps.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Greece's hands slipping and whirled away from Alfred in time to catch it. Greece let out another cry, his body jerking as I snatched his wrist from midair. His green eyes were wide with terror as he looked up at me, begging almost.

"A-America?" he asked. "America, who is that other country?" I craned my neck around in time to see Alfred sit up rigidly, his expression unchanging.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly. I stared at him for a moment, completely taken aback by the question. What was I doing? What had gotten into him that he'd go after someone innocent? This wasn't right. Killing Greece would accomplish nothing. Japan was the one at fault. Greece had only wanted to help.

"Alfred, what's wrong with you? Greece didn't do anything wrong!" I cried. Alfred's eyes slid away from mine to Greece.

"W-What is going on?" Greece asked shrilly. I felt his palms begin to sweat and I tightened my grip.

"He knows about Reynolds, he has to die, that's the rule," Alfred explained softly. Immediately, all the moisture left my mouth, and my tongue became nothing but pliable sandpaper. I hadn't meant for Greece to die. I only wanted to scare Japan so that he'd think twice about lying. There was no reason to kill Greece. It was unfair and wrong. My voice remained a prisoner and I was only able to open and close my mouth unintelligibly.

"Are you going to pull him up?" Alfred asked when I remained speechless. His eyes were glazed over with a sheen that was soon to serve as a mirror to my own insanity, but at that moment, I still had enough of my human side to not want to kill a nation we hadn't planned for. In my mind, Denmark, Norway, Vietnam, and Finland were meant to die. Their purpose was to keep us alive. They were necessary sacrifices for the greater good.

Greece was different. Though I didn't know him all that well, I never planned to kill him, meaning I never prepared the mindset needed. I couldn't make myself see him as an object to dispose of because in my head, he was still a person.

Still, Alfred's face was scaring me. It was void and blank, the true essence of my happy-go-lucky twin disintegrated into nothing. Still, I insisted on fooling myself again.

"What will you do if I do?" I found myself asking. Alfred blinked slowly, his eyes so dark, and the shadows cast across his battered face rendering him a nightmarish ghoul.

Then, my observation was promptly cut off as Greece suddenly gave a shriek and his back arched painfully. I grit my teeth and grasped his wrist even tighter, my chest hitting the iron safety rail as his seizure-like movements nearly made me lose my balance.

All the blood rushed from my face as I realized what was happening. Greece's capital was being destroyed, meaning Alfred had contacted the killers and ordered them to do so. I could only watch as Greece convulsed in midair, me the only thing keeping him from being ground up into nothing.

"If you pull him up, I'm worthless." I looked over again at Alfred, who was watching me with all the calculated patience of a stalking predator.

"What are you talking about? Greece isn't the one you should be mad at! Japan is!"

"N-No, leave…K-Kiku alone," Greece managed to choke out through his agony. Alfred's eyes flashed dangerously, and I swallowed a growing lump in my throat.

"I'm the land of Democracy, Canada," Alfred stated, still glaring hatefully at Greece. "You do what you need to do, just know it's a choice between your brother, or someone who probably can't even find you on the map because they don't know your name." I flinched at the acid dripping from those words. I looked back down at Greece. His muscles were spasming as sweat dampened his skin. His nose had also started to bleed profusely.

"You're the only one who truly loves me," Alfred whispered darkly. "If you choose Greece, I know what I really am."

"Fuck, Alfred, what? What are you if I decide to do the right thing?" I shouted, using both hands too keep Greece's slippery sweat-coated wrists in my grasp.

"Nothing."

I stopped breathing for a second, for all the air had been knocked out of my lungs.

The weight of that word slammed into me like a freight train. I rigidly turned my head and looked down at Greece. His body twitched and wriggled like a salmon caught in a bear's mouth. If I, the only one who really truly loved Alfred, were to go against him and save this person, the source of all his pain, then it would mean I didn't love him at all. Without me, what Reynolds said about no one loving Alfred would be proven true. In fact, my love for him was the only proof Reynolds was wrong, that America wasn't worthless, disgusting, or evil.

He'd forgotten me, but after being reminded the first time he never did so again. Besides, what did I owe Greece? All he did was sleep, never acknowledging me or really anyone else for that matter. Yet, I knew these didn't warrant someone to die, and I couldn't bring myself to hate him. He had done nothing wrong. He had only wanted to help his friend.

However, I knew exactly what would happen if I pulled Greece up. It would prove I cared for him more, and that would kill Alfred. I turned and looked at him again and found him no longer glaring at Greece, but down at the rotating blades of the meat grinder. His entire body was quaking, his hands inching forward ever so slowly.

As I watched him, something foul and black twisted its way around my entire body. I knew what Alfred was thinking, and it made me want to puke. He wanted to throw himself in those whirling blades. If I didn't drop Greece, he'd want to die, convinced Japan's love for him was based on a lie (which is sort of was) and that I no longer put him first.

Greece let out another agonizing shriek. It was becoming harder and harder to keep him up. The noise was unbearable yet, barely masked by the screaming and machinery, my ears picked up a sweeter sound, and I realized Alfred had started singing.

"_Amazin' grace, how sweet the sound, who loved a wretch like me." _He took a breath and stood, walking over to the safety rail and gripping the top bar. _"I once was lost, but now I'm found…" _he let the notes die on his lips. "So go ahead and chose what you want to do," he murmured softly. "Know I'll be proud either way, because it was your choice to make."

Alfred needed help and undying devotion, not an idiot who ignored the problem and tricked himself into believing everything was hunky-dory. He didn't need a self-pitying whiner who was so desperate for attention he'd allow his own twin to be battered and brainwashed on a daily basis.

Unfortunately, I was the idiot. The thought of Alfred falling into those blades, becoming nothing but a pink smoothie, was nothing short of nauseating. It was time to choose. There were no cheats or mental preparation this time. This was seen for what it was. These were two lives in my hands, my brother's and a genuinely good person's.

In the end, I chose my brother and allowed my fingers to unwind. Greece gave a final shriek until he hit his destination. I watched the entire thing as the grinder roared with approval of its new meal. I watched, my chest still braced against the safety rail. At first my eyes were wide and my mouth slack, but ever so slowly, while I watched the rusty crimson blades churn, I felt it tug into a smile.

Something about this was just too funny and I felt the giggles rise up like a flock of butterflies. They started softly, but as I sat back, they got louder and didn't stop. I felt…so…so alive.

"Mattie, I love you," I heard Alfred whisper gently as he got to his knees. I felt his head rest on my shoulder. A pair of arms encircled me from behind and suddenly the giggles turned into a fit of laughter. This was so unreal. I just killed someone, and I felt wonderful. It was a high no drug could compare to, and I laughed. I laughed so hard that tears rolled down my face. "You're so strong, bro," Alfred murmured. "I'm so happy you love me."

I just laughed and laughed, the machine letting out a satisfied purr as Greece was completely devoured.

* * *

Okay guys, I promise shout outs next chappie because it is the final one and I can dump this all back on Lucky BUAHAHA!

AP German class has started again and I have to say...IF ANY GERMAN PEOPLE READ THIS, TEACH ME YOUR LANGUAGE *is shot with a machine gun* Heh heh, ignore her.

Denmark's name was from the story "Outcast" (I totally forgot last night to mention it XD) READ EET! Especially if you like SuFin


	37. Final Eye Opening Chapter: Demon Twins

Here you go! The Final Answer! More and the end loves! Angel has a lot to tell you.

**Disclaimer: Not owning. **

* * *

There's really not much more to report once I lost it. Denmark was forced to kill Norway. He didn't cry or beg for another way. Norway at this point had lost Oslo and was in so much agony, Denmark knew what he was doing was an act of mercy. Yellow gave me Reynolds' head as a sort of gift, when really he was gloating that he saved Japan's life by finding it before the investigators did. I placed it with Greece's remains on Japan's doorstep. That was to simply be cruel, a chance to give Japan a taste of what was to come.

I then dragged Norway's body out into the woods and waited. In a short time, Italy, Germany and Japan all came and I made my presence known. That's where I led them down to the cave and did as Alfred wanted by killing nearly all the nations. Before this though, I had to make sure of something, and, walking closer to my brother I knelt down and whispered in his ear,

"Are you proud of me bro?"

He nodded.

"Punish Japan and kill them all," he encouraged. "Let me see their blood." I let myself go in those moments of sadism. Every demon and frustration I had kept locked away within myself was released. I laughed, screamed and vented everything as I did my brother's bidding. There was no connection, only red.

Yet, the world came back like a savage blade when I went to kill Japan. I was going to kill them all, regardless if Japan broke his fingers or not, but upon looking into his face, something in me that was still Matthew Williams began to doubt.

Japan lied, but there was no reason to kill him. It was clear he was still in love with Alfred, and he had risked himself and his people to save the other nations. He didn't have to, he just did. As I raised Mr. Cleaver, I thought about what I would become if I killed someone who, despite watching the one he loved do terrible things, still loved him. I had to break it. I had to prove to myself Japan didn't love Alfred. I knew he wouldn't say 'I love you', and I knew it would destroy whatever was left of my brother. Still, it had to be said.

"I love you," I said through tears I hadn't realized were falling. I wasn't expecting anything, but when I brought the blade down, I heard it clear as day,

"I love you too." I missed Japan's head, Mr. Cleaver embedding itself in the chunk of wall, and finally looked at him for real. This wasn't a sinner. This wasn't a monster or an object with no value. This was a person, a nation, a living thing with thoughts and feelings who's only crime was making a terrible, but human mistake.

"W-What did you say?" I asked, my heart pounding out of my chest. My hands, still gripping the handle, were ice cold and sweaty. Japan hesitated; trying to come to grips with the fact he was still alive and repeated the phrase.

My eyes grew huge and suddenly there was nonstop buzzing in my ears. It grew loud and angry as I looked around the cave: from the six killers standing at attention, to Finland's bloody corpse, the trail left by Vietnam, and finally, almost unwillingly, looked at my brother.

He was curled on his side, his hair matted with Vietnam's blood. At first glance, I thought he was crying, but tilting my head, I saw his mouth twisted in a grin. With horror and outright anguish, I realized he was laughing. He was laughing at all of this pain, not even realizing what Japan had just said. My brother was lost, but didn't that mean I was too?

I looked down at myself, dreading what I was going to see. I almost expected half of myself to be gone, but what I saw was even worse. The blood of fellow nations was all over me. This wasn't me. This wasn't what the nation of Canada was meant to be. The truth of what I had done sank in like an anchor in a raging ocean and I screamed.

It was a terrified scream of someone who knows they are going to die. I was losing my mind, for it was that raging ocean. Already I didn't even know if I was America or Canada; Matthew Williams or Alfred F. Jones. Then I cried. I cried hard because this wasn't who I was. I wasn't a monster and neither was my brother. I was confused, scared and alone again, alone because my brother was giggling on the floor after just witnessing a massacre. A massacre he orchestrated using me.

I begged Japan for forgiveness as I raised the cleaver again. I had to do it. I had to or the other killers would. Then, out of nowhere, Alfred intervened. At first I didn't understand, but then it hit me.

_He_ didn't want to break a finger. He wanted _me_ to.

"Prove your loyalty, bro. Break a finger for poor Japan on my behalf," he whispered as I strangled him. "Then let them go. Forget killing everyone. Do as I say." His eyes were clouded and unreadable, his expression reminding me of a horror movie happy jester who enjoyed juggling human heads. This wasn't my brother, but at the very second I was above him I was…_afraid_.

I was so_ horribly terrified_ of him.

I could have squeezed a little harder and paralyzed him at the very least, but the way he looked at me…I'm sorry, I can't even describe it.

"Get away from him, or he'll kill you," I whispered in warning as I pressed the chloroform soaked rag over Japan's nose and mouth.

I ended up ushering the other killers away, saying killing Canada was a private affair. They all understood, particularly Purple, and left me to switch places as originally planned and break my finger. It hurt. It hurt like you wouldn't believe, but I was so confused, so horrified at not knowing who I was that I had to please the one person who I thought knew what he was doing.

Yet, after enduring a grief-stricken assault by Iceland, I began to question Alfred's motives. Why Denmark and Norway? Surely it couldn't have been random. I wanted the truth this time. Sure Alfred had dealt with so much this past year, but there was something more to this. There had to be. America was strong and he wouldn't lose himself without a fight.

I didn't know what to do. I was so lost and didn't even remember the plan. Just as I was about to attempt to get some sleep, I got a strange call from Japan and felt even worse. Lying through my teeth about Alfred still loving him, it was clear this needed to be fixed. I couldn't be weak anymore and left my hospital room.

When I made my way back to the cave long after Sweden flew us back to China's hospital, dodging France's constant questioning, I found Alfred rocking against the wall where I left him, tearing out chunks of his hair and no longer merely giggling but outright laughing. He'd broken the ropes again and I feared I was walking in on a viscous creature untethered.

The blood was still on his face, and his eyes were sightless, the irises barely visible by how dilated his pupils were.

"A-Al?" I questioned hesitantly.

"They all died," Alfred muttered. "They all died. They're gone, but I still hear them in my head." He let out another giggle. "You killed them dead, Canada. You killed them for me." At this he let out a grating laugh, which sounded eerily like mine.

"Bro?" I began softly. Alfred calmed himself enough and looked at me, tilting his head.

"You're here?" I blinked in surprise. Hadn't he been talking to me earlier? I merely coughed into my fist and carefully sat in front of him.

"Y-Yeah, I'm here," I replied, not sure if the question was rhetorical or not.

"Why?" he asked. "Aren't you supposed to be innocent now? You don't have to kill anyone anymore."

"I came to ask what we're going to do next," I lied.

"Well, did you find out who the other killers were?" he questioned.

"No," I answered.

"Are they all on your side?"

"No." His eyes narrowed and I felt like a mouse cornered by a cat.

"Then you're lying to me," he hissed lowly. "Really, why are you here?" The person sitting in front of me was an exact copy of Alfred, but it wasn't him. His eyes were too dark. Angered, and even a little scared, I snapped,

"I want to know why!" Taken aback, his anger faded.

"Why, what?"

"Why for all of this! Why are you so intent to kill everyone! What happened that I don't know! Why did you choose Norway to die and make the killers think you were going to frame Denmark?" Alfred was silent for a long while, his expression dangerous. The river was the only sound until he decided to answer me.

"There was going to be no framing," Alfred answered. His mouth cracked into another grin, the dried blood making half of his face seem deformed. "You were going to die with them. Why do you think I told you to invite all the killers down here and destroy Ottawa?" A cold blade of ice pieced my heart.

"W-What?"

"I chose Denmark and Norway at random!" Alfred suddenly roared, his eyes huge and horribly frightening. "I chose them out of my ass! I want everyone to die! I agreed with Black from the beginning! I gave him the resources!" My lungs deflated like balloons as I let out a gasp. I recovered, the words slamming into me like a sledge hammer.

"What!" I yelled, grabbing his shoulders roughly and forcing him to look at me.

"I know you heard," Alfred said darkly. "I helped Black get started." I only stared for what felt like hours, letting this information sink in. "He's been planning this since the end of the World Wars. He recruited White first, and then Yellow, Purple, Red, Green, Pink, and then you were last," Alfred listed. "He didn't tell them shit when they surrounded you. He said he told them he was meeting Blue, and that if something should go wrong to destroy Ottawa. But America was Blue, meaning having us meet in Canada would frame you."

"So you wanted them to kill me the entire time?" I asked, my voice a limping pathetic sound.

"No," Alfred answered, his eyes so horribly cold. "I wanted them to kill us both."

My mouth opened and closed uselessly. I couldn't speak, the shock overpowering. Alfred knew about this from the beginning. He hadn't been helping me, but Black. All this confusing planning, all this preparation was his way of manipulating me. He wanted the killers to succeed in their mission of death. He didn't want to stop them, but didn't want to risk getting caught, and so he gave them me, the second physically strongest nation in the world. Anger and betrayal suddenly combusted within me and I began to see red.

"You lying fuck!" I shrieked, standing up abruptly. His expressionless face instantly grew frightened. "You lied to me!" I let out my own enraged scream and kicked him backwards into the cave wall. He let out a yelp of pain before tumbling to his side. I surged forward, my expression crazed. "LIAR!" I screamed repeatedly, kicking him hard with each word. He let out a small cry every time, blood streaming from his mouth as I nicked his lower lip. "You liar! You liar! Liar! Liar! _LIIIAAAARR!"_ My eyes were obviously frightening, for Alfred's face was terrified as I continued my assault, eventually bringing my foot down on his pinky finger, twisting my boot diabolically.

"How does it feel, huh?" I snarled. "How does it feel to have your bones crushed for nothing?"

Alfred wailed as the bones were smashed, the insane rage I felt when I killed Finland and Vietnam was returning. I grabbed his hair and turned him over on his back, straddling him as I withdrew my gun. "Give me three good reasons not to shoot you," I sad, my voice full of malice. Alfred coughed a bit. Spitting up a trail of blood, he stared me dead in the eye and said,

"Why would I want to?" My brief flash of rage instantly evaporated at the hollow devastation in Alfred's expression. I let my mouth fall open as my brother, who lived life to the fullest, lifted his head enough so his forehead was pressed to the barrel. His eyes were so barren, the bright blue I had come to find both frustrating and admirable a dull shade of pale gray.

"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp," he recited quietly.

"Give me your tired, your poor,

"Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

"The wretched refuse from your teeming shore.

"Send these, the homeless, the tempest-tost to me,

"I lift my lamp beside the golden door," he finished bitterly.

"Bro," I murmured, too scared and too frozen to lower the gun.

"Bullshit, right?" Alfred whispered. "I was supposed to be the hero and change the world. Yet, the world has corrected and so kindly informed me I'm worthless now. But there are things no one else knows, Mattie." The way he said his nickname for me was completely different. There was no playfulness, nor was it a term of endearment. Like the rest of him, it was empty. "My people are rioting. They hate me. They loved Reynolds because he was turning me around. Did you know…he was hitting me from the beginning, before I made this plan and that all my people knew?" I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. I wanted him to stop talking. I didn't want to hear this.

"How did they find out who you were? What you were?" I asked, my voice a broken parody of itself.

"He told them. He told them what I was, and it was humiliating," Alfred whimpered. For the first time in a long time, his tears were not ones of anger, but of absolute sadness. "You should have seen the way they looked at me. You should have been there."

"Alfred...I'm...I'm so sorry," I whispered. I couldn't imagine the feeling, the utter mortification of being outed to my people, to have them know I wasn't human, that I was different from them. Just the thought was sickening, but to have my boss, someone who was supposed to love and protect me, betray the most vital of secrets, that was even worse.

"They all blame me. They blame me for everything, from the oil crisis to terrorism. Hell, they'd blame me for the weather if they could. What you said about them when you punished Japan is true. My people are nothing but fat, lazy fucks who expect me to do everything for them. I hate them," he hissed. "So I helped unleash seven killers to punish them and everyone else. When Black came to me with this idea, I agreed. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being beaten and hated for breathing. I'm done. They want to hate me, let them."

"Oh, God." I felt sick and my breath refused to come, making me lightheaded and weak. With one hand I reached out and touched the side of my brother's face, the gun still pointed. "Alfred, what happened to you?"

Alfred didn't respond. Instead, he changed the subject. "Do it, Canada. I wanted you to be my hero, which was why I asked Black to pick you. I wanted you to be the one who punished them for turning me into this so I could…" his voice faltered and his tears returned. No longer was he empty, but filled to the brim with unspeakable suffering. He gathered himself enough to breathe, "So I could pretend that you still loved me."

My heart stopped. This was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Alfred wasn't supposed to hate everyone. He was my big brother, my twin. Why hadn't he told anyone what Reynolds and his people were doing to him? What did I do to make him think I stopped loving him? "So please, Mattie," he said shakily, lifting his hands and gently tugging my wrist so the gun was back against his forehead. "I don't want to be like this," he whispered. "I don't want to hate anymore." Suddenly I was crying, whipping at my eyes with the back of my hand.

"W-Why?" I asked through my tears. "Why did everything get so screwed up?"

"I don't know," Alfred answered. "But I know I'm wrong." I blinked, once again caught off guard. I didn't even know what to think anymore. I didn't know if I was angry or betrayed, but I did know I was hurt. I was hurt because the person asking me to kill him had been dying long before the killers made their move. He'd been dying since the second World War, perhaps not physically, but mentally. Watching people hurt each other for so long, trying to help only to have them resent him, and then finally being declared the source of the world's troubles was what reduced him to this—something he never wanted to be.

I realized then, I didn't share his hate. I was frustrated, yes. I was also angry at his people, but just because I was angry didn't mean I hated them. Sure it was easy to lose faith in the world, seeing wars, death, fighting over things that shouldn't matter, and people killing one another over minuscule things, but the truth was, there was hope.

Japan proved that to me only a few hours prior when he withstood Tokyo's demise and told me point blank that he loved me thinking I was Alfred. It was nations and people like Japan, who risked everything for the sake of others, enduring unbearable amounts of pain, that made Black wrong. There were people in the world who could love someone so devotedly despite seeing them do such terrible things. People like that proved that the world didn't need to be reset. Helped, maybe, but there was no need to punish everyone.

"You really are wrong," I confirmed. "Because not everyone is out to get you. Japan still is in love with you, even after seeing you kill his own sister. You were wrong about him, Alfred. You still have people who care about you besides me." His breath hitched and he closed his eyes painfully. "Even after you used him and had me force him to break his own fingers." Alfred shook for a moment, and for a second I thought he was only going to weep, but his eyes snapped open, and the unrestrained fury had returned to them. The hatred was so startling I let out a small breath.

"I love Japan!" Alfred yelled. "I've always have! Ever since I took care of him after World War II, I've had these stupid feelings for him!" I watched as angry tears flowed down his dirty cheeks. "And I fucking hate the world because they made sure I wasn't good enough for him!" I sat up and away from pure unhinged anger in his eyes, though I was still straddling him. "I hate them! I hate them all for turning me into this!" He let out a piercing shriek of rage, one that utterly frightens me to this very moment.

"Alfred," I begin rather fearfully.

"Now I've corrupted him!" He let out an angry snarl, gnashing his teeth and gripping my wrist harder, making sure the gun was still against his head. Yet, when he spoke again his voice came out weak and pleading. His eyes faded back into agony and he looked up at me, clearly begging. "Matthew, you know I'm not this person," he whispered. "Please do this." I trembled. At the peak of my rage I had wanted to more than anything, but now it made me sick. I didn't want Alfred to die with the world thinking they were right about him. I didn't want him to die at all.

"I-I can't," I stuttered.

"You have to let me go," Alfred told softly. "Please, bro. Please don't let me keep living in this. It's hell in my head."

"I can't," I repeated, shaking my head. I felt another lash of nausea as I realized this was how Denmark must have felt. Only, he wasn't like me. He did what needed to be done and put Norway out of his misery. Though Alfred wasn't hurting physically, he was mentally, and yet I was still a coward.

"Please don't let me become this person, bro," he pleaded. "Please let me die as me."

"And what the fuck am I supposed to do?" I shouted abruptly. "What am I going to do once you're dead?"

"Fix what I've done to you," he whispered. "America is the killer, remember? You're innocent in the eyes of the world so you have to let me go while you still can. I never wanted this. I was selfish and I'm so sorry. You've done so much for me and I don't deserve it, but I deserve this. Please pull the trigger." In the end I couldn't. I had to get away from him for awhile, but before I did, I removed all the bullets from the gun I was carrying and handed it to him.

"What's this for?" he asked, staring at the empty weapon while favoring his broken pinky.

"I want you to look at it and tell me that you really want to die, because if you wanted to die, you could have easily thrown yourself in the river." To my horror, the idea struck Alfred, and I instantly regretted mentioning it, for he tried to lunge into the rapids, as if they represented salvation. I tackled him to the ground and tied him up, much to his outright fury.

"NO! I WANT TO DIE! I WANT TO DIE!" he shrieked. "Please Mattie, let me go! Let me go because it hurts!"

"Shut up," I growled. "You promised me you wouldn't leave me alone," I reminded darkly, standing up and making my way back towards the entrance.

"That was before I started having these thoughts! Shit, I was going to get us both killed from the beginning! You're innocent now! They think I'm Blue! You can run! You can clean your hands of this!" he insisted. "Matthew, I swapped the plan just for this." I didn't answer him, trying the ropes tighter and making sure he wouldn't be able to break them.

I let out a bitter sigh as I returned to my house, unsure how I was going to go about making Alfred seem like a victim instead of the killer.

I had come to terms with the idea of killing him. After seeing him like that, I knew it had to be done. Yet, I wanted to go down with him in some way. Alfred was two steps shy of a raging lunatic and I was back to questioning everything I had done. I needed to turn myself in, yet make Alfred look like a hero. I wasn't sure how to go about it, but an opportunity presented itself when I found Prussia snooping around my house dressed as a maid.

I called Green and set everything up, confirming their suspicions that I was America and leading them down into the cave. I had been surprised Prussia had a gun on his person, but then again, Prussia liked carrying around weaponry. I planned to kill my brother and let Italy, Germany, and Japan take me into custody, but Alfred was one step ahead of me. As soon as they untied him, I knew I was screwed.

From the beginning of the final encounter, we were plotting against each other. While it looked as if we were working in perfect harmony, we were sizing one another up. This was going to be where either I killed Alfred, or Alfred beat me to a pulp and forced me to obey him again.

I couldn't lose. I knew that. Yet, when we started to fight, I found he was truly trying to kill me, angry that I had let him live. My previous assumption of him only beating me up was tossed out the window. I was fighting for my life. His hate had grown in those few short hours after I refused to end his life, and it was keeping him alive.

He wanted to play the hero so he could live on and continue as Blue in my place, or worse, make a new Blue. However, even when he bit and punched me, beneath the rage and insanity, there was the depressing agony. He was like a dog with rabies, driven mad and attacking everyone and everything despite knowing it wasn't truly what he wanted.

"You're useless," he hissed dangerously at one point as I was attempting to aim the loaded gun back at his head. "I can't wait to kill you. And to think, everyone will think I'm the hero while you," he paused to grin cruelly, blood dribbling from his lower lip, "will die."

"I'm going to end this," I snarled back.

"You had your chance to," he retorted. "You had your chance, but you're a coward, Canada. You always have been, always will, which is why America is always going to kick your ass."

"I'm ending it now."

"It's too late." We fought again, throwing each other around and pulling hair until we were finally locked in another stalemate.

"What about Japan?" I asked. Alfred's moony sneer only increased.

"He's going to be my hero." Disgust was the first thing I felt.

"You wouldn't," I growled. His deranged smile suddenly faded.

"Your brother is dying, Canada," he said. "He's in a lot of pain and it's driving him insane. I'll do anything it takes to end it, but know I'm going to follow you once Japan is ready."

I was determined not to make this come true. I just had to hold out before Japan's troops hit Washington. I knew he was going to attack Alfred despite loving him. Given one last boost of strength, I was able to straddle him and grip his throat in a death lock. I planned to do so until he passed out.

However, my thoughts were put out of order as he slammed my head with a rock. He pulled the gun from my grip and pressed it to my head. I had to distract, and upon seeing Japan with the empty pistol I used our identical faces to my advantage one last time.

Alfred had other plans and was about to shoot me. For a second, I thought he was really going to do it, until America fell to the side, writhing in agony. I got up and revealed myself as the master villain, knowing it was a lie. If Alfred was going to die, he was going to die a hero. I could give him that much.

Japan tried to shoot but then tossed the useless weapon to the side, realizing with a curse it was empty. From there I turned my attention back to Alfred, pointing the gun at his head. I had to do it now. This was going to be my last chance. Alfred looked at me through the pain, his eyes screaming,

_Do it! Oh God, please do it and let me out of this torment. Don't let me live to hurt anymore people. _I knew what I had to do, begging God to give me the strength to pull the trigger. This person wasn't my brother anymore. He was sick and couldn't be cured. I needed to do the right thing and let him go.

_Please, please let me be strong enough to do this, _I pleaded within my mind, pulling the hammer to the gun back._ Please let me be his brother and allow me to do this._

But I couldn't.

Alfred saw my resolve die. The insane fury returned to his eyes, and as if summoned by it, Japan attacked, sending us both into the river. With a scream I accidentally pulled the trigger and the stray bullet hit Japan. I got so angry, angry because it wasn't fair that I was going to be seen as a monster and that I was too weak to kill Alfred while I had the chance. Twice.

There's no need to say more. It's over now, and finally I'm going over the waterfall. I see the brightness of the sky indefinitely and let out a strangled cry as icy liquid invades my lungs as I let out a scream. The water drives me over and for the span of a second I'm falling. My stomach does a strange flip, and then my head and back slam into something hard. Pain is the first thing I feel and I grit my teeth.

Strangely enough, I'm not in the water anymore, instead I am laying on my back as the waterfall pounds my feet. I blink slowly like a dumb cow, the searing pain in the back of my head the only thing I feel. After a moment of moving my hands, I realize that I have landed on one of the ledges my brother was talking about. I groan bitterly as I attempt to move my legs, my vision blurring as pain rockets through. I realize I'm stunned and take a moment for my body to gather itself.

Then, I think. I think about all I've done, ignoring the growling hiss of the waterfall around me and a harsh sting of water droplets in my eyes. I've killed so many people, all for a selfish reason, but I'm here. I'm alive and I have as much right to live as any of the other nations.

Why? Someone might ask.

Because all nations are killers.

Alfred went insane for me, and in the end he expects me to crawl up and return to let him die. I know I tried to save him against his wishes, but now as I really think, I know I was wrong. It was wrong of me to ignore Alfred. When he begged for me to kill him, pressing his forehead against my gun, I was too selfish to let him go.

He was and is in so much pain and yet I couldn't pull the trigger. Looking into the teary and suffering eyes of my brother, I realized I didn't have it in me. Maybe this is what Black wanted, or maybe it was the simple and painful truth that Alfred had been this crazy longer than I initially thought.

There are still so many questions I don't understand. I close my eyes against the beautiful winter sky. I guess it doesn't really matter. I think I'll just lay here for a little while longer, decide what I'm going to do. I don't want to die, but I don't want to be a servant anymore.

I always thought that being selfish wasn't in my nature, but after reevaluating everything I've done, I realize my motives themselves were completely. I didn't tell anyone about Alfred's abuse not only because he didn't want me to, but because it made me feel needed. In these past six months, the bond that was so strained for the longest time, became stronger than steel. Alfred, even in his raving and delusional state, made me feel…_loved_ for the first time in centuries.

To be loved…was that all I wanted?

If so I'm a selfish little bitch.

I hear something scramble not too far away and a regrettably open my eyes. The sky is back and I weakly turn my head to the right and see Black standing on one of the ledges a little higher than mine. It appeared he hopped down a few of them to get to me, and for some reason I find myself thinking of a mountain goat. I'm still on my back, but Black his crouching down looking at me. Even though the mask covers his face, I can tell by his eyes he's feeling victorious. In his head, he just tamed a bucking bronco.

I should be offended, but I'm too tired. I've fought long and hard and in the end it just didn't matter. That comforting thought of at least I tried means nothing.

Black reaches his hand out to help me up. I stare blankly before reaching my hand out. I never found out who Purple really was, but I figure I knew him pretty well by the time this was all said and done. He often talked about how you couldn't change someone's fate no matter how hard you tried. Although I'm trying to come to terms with it, something refuses to let me.

As Black reaches for my outstretched hand, it finally hits me. There is something I can still do. I can finally 'grow a pair' as Alfred puts it, and do the right thing. After all the pain I've caused, after the countless lives I destroyed, it's time for me to change my destiny as a doormat. I need to be redeemed, because although I'll be remembered as a demon, I'm dying a sacrifice.

It's time to take my place as America's twin brother and not his retarded stable boy. I need to give him what he needs instead of what he wants. If I don't, Japan will merely take my place and the world will fall under a superpower's hate.

Just as Black's hand is close enough to grasp mine, I pull it back, giving the sick bastard America's arrogant grin. However, I don't put my hand all the way down. I keep it raised enough so my 'leader' can clearly see it, and then curl every finger except my middle into a weak fist. It's the universal sign of, 'fuck you'. Black's eyes grow wide and quickly turn enraged. Flipping him off was something I should have done from the beginning, but then again I guess it's better late than never.

With nothing else left, I hurriedly turn over until I roll off the edge of the ledge. My stomach does that strange flip and once again I'm staring at the sky. I'm falling now, and crying silently. I want to live more than anything, but this is the right thing, this is what Alfred needs.

The good part that's still my brother wants me to kill him because the pain he's feeling and the thoughts he's having are tearing him apart. Despite this fact, I know even if I crawl up there I'll never be able to kill him. I'm not strong enough for that, and I know we'd be back to the game of master and servant.

No, this is the right path. Alfred promised he'd follow me if I were killed, and though he's broken promises before, this is one I know he will keep, because my real brother was the one who made it. He'll follow me, because we're the same. What's in him is in me and vice versa. This is me defeating fate as I bring my brother down with me. Hopefully he can find a way to redeem himself too once he finds the way.

In a split second I hit the rocks and water. My lungs instantaneously fill up with liquid and something (most likely my back) snaps. My eyes are still on the sky and sun, looking so beautiful through the transparent window of water. I feel my vision darkening, a dull sense of pain telling me I'm still alive for the time being

I'm scared for a moment, but then it fades as the murky world consuming me turns into something old and nostalgic. I'm small again, my white nightgown brushing against my ankles as I run up to a gorgeous house. From the front door comes France and England, fighting as usual, but I'm not interested in them. The person I want to see is following shyly behind them.

Immediately I run into his arms, laughing. I look into clear blue eyes which are exact copies of my own. They're so beautifully clear. There's no darkness or hatred clouding them. None of that's present on my other half's face. There's nothing but blue and adoration as our foreheads touch and we grasp each other's hands, giggling as England traps France in a headlock.

Then, a warm pair of arms lifts Alfred and me upwards, and I'm staring into the loving dark eyes of someone alien, yet completely familiar. Beautiful feathers adorn her ebony head, as she smiles. I realize I had forgotten what she looked like. Alfred lets out a happy cry in a language I have since forgotten and our mother laughs.

We look nothing like her, yet we are of the same blood.

This is nice. It's good to be with your friends, with people who love you. It's the place where you know you belong. No matter where this shithole of an existence we call life has taken someone, there's always this place they can retreat to, back when their world was simple and seeing your brother laugh like he used to was better than heaven.

If Black's right and I am reborn, I promise I won't forget this death. As my eyes gradually close and my broken body sinks further down in the waterfall, I'm promising I won't make the same mistakes again.

Also, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything, and hopefully if I do get a second chance, I can take care of my brother for real. Someone once said, "God bless America, but God bless Canada for putting up with them." I used to think that quote was funny, but now I see that I can't just put up with America. I can't just let him push me around, because when the time comes to stand up and actually help him, I fail and make things worse by acting as the dumb servant.

I know if I die, he'll die.

It's so quiet now. I can't see anything but that house and my brother's smiling face. He'll follow me, and I'll wait. There's no pain, just regret and sadness that I can no longer see the sky.

Well, it's time…

Promise…

Follow…for…

…

…

…

_I promise I won't forget…_

* * *

Blue's Arc: Demon Twins Concluded

Thank you for reading! This is the last Answer Chappie, and Lucky attacks you with Yellow! Be proud I finished in four chappies as promised! 8D

So, thank you guys. Your reviews really meant a lot. When I started this small Answer's Arc, I wasn't the best because I was very worried about a friend of mine. I also recently found out, only a few weekends ago, she tried to commit suicide. I found writing was a great way to cope, and most of you guys have been so wonderful. It really makes both of us happy that you enjoy our hard work. Stick around and for you peeps that didn't read these answers and found them pointless SHAME ON YOU! Not only did you miss something important, you missed a major plot point for the next arc.

Anyway, I LOVE the North American twins with all my heart, which is weird because I tend to think twins in anime are way overrated. Oh well. Adeu to Blue and hellooooooo Yellow!

Anyway, SHOUT OUTS!

**WOKgeotobi, hurleysuki, SheWhoRunzWithScissors, Celestie, justinewhitlock4eva, SpazztikXpRiDe18, The Happy Stalker Ball (We love super long reviews, it makes us happy :D), Yume Ninja, Tinkeroftime, dragoneian, hootpoop12, SwissCheese, LightBender, Half-Blood Warrior Kitty, CanadianCookie (Dun worry, America is more so DX And they killed the Good Twin!), Reaper-Lawliet, Canadino, xYukii, LupinandHarry, AikoujOi, WhimsicalShmoo, hellmath, prosapina, Black-Yami-Cat, The daily life of a peach, darandomninja, and **

**Yume Ninja**

And for chapter 35

**MystRider Miliazer, Viv (Spain didn't kill himself though D:), davi, Darona, Emeralddragon694, avaspongeriffic, Sageleisa, HAKUNA MATATA, The Metal Cervidae, nagihachan, korikori, AntonioAndRomano4Ever, EmoLollipop, EvilAnimeGoodness, marmoki, ficfan3484, Kuragari Rya, Kara2992, Sedian9410, SsmilyfaceE, Anon, bettyhime, Kendall N.S., and **

**CaCoPhOnY Of ScReAmS **


	38. Confession Chair

**Hey, guys, Lucky here with the next chappie of SLK! 8D Hope you guys enjoy the start of Yellow's arc. XD**

**Oh, and we have an uber important announcement at the bottom, so it'll do you well to read it. :D**

**Disclaimer: Me no own Hetalia, ya?**

* * *

The first thing Ivan noticed when he opened his eyes was that he most certainly was not in China's kitchen.

Russia frowned, blinking as his eyes dilated painfully in the sharp morning glare. Why was he in a bed? Wasn't he supposed to be in China's kitchen, taking an early morning nap on the table? His brow furrowed as he shifted around and realized that the was in a bed that smelled faintly like...hospital. Ivan gave another curious sniff at his sheets before sitting up. A small piece of tubing that had been taped under his nose tore off. Russia looked down at it, utterly confused.

"Maybe I'm just hallucinating," he muttered quietly, turning left so he could see the window. He gave a strangled sort of snort when he saw that the ground was blanketed in snow. "I must...yes, I must be dreaming. I'm not nearly crazy enough to _see_ things." Russia rolled his eyes and smiled at his own imagination before laying back down on the bed and drawing the covers around him, rolling over on his side. "Oh, big sis! What're you doing in my dream?"

However, Ukraine, who was snoring loudly in a wooden chair by Russia's bed, was in no condition to answer that question, much less hear it. Russia frowned when he saw the numerous Styrofoam cups spilling from the trash bin by the door, a small pyramid even starting on his bedside table that he hadn't known had been there. He saw deep, dark bruise-like circles under Ukraine's eyes, her skin a sickly shade of yellow. "Big sis..." A dark shadow began growing over Russia's eyes as his lips widened into a creepy grin. "Do I need to take care of someone...?"

But as expected, Ukraine didn't answer—instead she gave a little sniff and shifted uncomfortably on her chair. Russia noticed one of the white cups in her hand, and he shifted forward enough to see that the inside was filled with a murky brown liquid. Coffee? "Big sis, I thought you didn't like coffee! Why are you drinking it?" Ukraine's head lolled on the back of the chair. Russia reached out and tentatively poked her leg. "Big sis, wakey wakey!"

Ukraine gave another little snort before swatting at Russia's hand with her left…which also happened to be the one holding the coffee. Russia watched in fascination as Ukraine shrieked and jumped up when the hot liquid started seeping through her pants. She looked down at the growing dark stain before turning back up to stare at Russia. Immediately, her expression changed.

"I…van." Ukraine's eyes widened further. Russia jumped when he saw tears starting to bud in her eyes and opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but was tackled into a gigantic hug before he could do any more than blink. "_Bozhe moy, spasibo, spasibo, gospodi, spasibo za to, shto ty vernul mne moyego mladshego brata..._"

"H-Huh?" Russia could only comment stupidly as his sister started wailing loudly. He patted her awkwardly on the back as he heard some intercom voice coming on outside, followed by the rushing of feet to some room down the hall. "U-Ukraine, I…wait, what happened? Why am I in a hospital again?"

Ukraine didn't answer, instead she hugged him tighter, her entire frame seeming to tremble. "All this time…thank God you came back to us," she wailed, her voice muffled by the hospital gown. It was only until Ivan could feel the wet seeping through his clothes that it finally sank in. Ukraine had cried before in front of him, but never like this before.

"B-Big sis," Russia could only whisper as his sister continued sobbing uncontrollably against his shoulder. "_Sh... Shto ne tak? Shto sluchilos_?" He lifted a hand to stroke her hair gently, which only seemed to increase the sound of her wails. He began to grow increasingly desperate. "P-Please, tell me what's wrong…I…I'll make it better, I promise, I'll make it better! Just tell me what happened!"

Ukraine's hold on Russia's hospital gown only tightened. The larger nation could only recognize a few words from his sister's garbled speech. "Killers…China…months…America and Canada…so glad…Natalia...all this time…dead…"

Russia's blood ran cold. "Natalia's dead? Who's dead? Is Yao okay?" Ukraine merely shook her head wildly, a cacophony of sobs bursting from her mouth. "Please, Katyusha, I need to know…" Ukraine took a few deep breaths and slowed down her breathing before pushing away from her little brother. She stared at him for a few moments before tears started gathering once more. "Big sis…"

"_N-Nyet_, I'm okay…" she said immediately, turning her head slightly as she wiped away at her tears with her sleeve. Russia watched her for a few more moments in worry before she reached forward and picked up one of the many white cups on the table by the bed, her previous one already emptied on the floor. "You've…you've been in a…a coma, Ivan. You've been in a coma for about…six months now."

And then, anything she said after that passed right over Russia's head.

A coma? _Six months_?

How could anyone be out for six _whole_ months? It seemed impossible, unreasonable. How did he even get in a coma in the first place? Russia vaguely heard Ukraine saying something about 'killers' and 'head wound', but none of it registered in Ivan's newly awakened mind. Six months. Six months was long enough for a lot more nations to die, to disappear, to…to change sides. What had happened when he was out? How much stuff had occurred? Was America still being harassed by Mr. Reynolds? Were Germany, Italy, and Japan still trying to find the killers? Who else was dead?

China. Was China okay?

"K-Katyusha…" Ukraine silenced immediately. "What's…where's Yao? Where is he? Is he okay?" Ukraine seemed to hesitate, her eyes blinking slowly as she always did when she was trying to find the right words for something. Russia's horror only increased. She only ever did this with bad news. "Where is China? I need to see him!"

Russia made a move to get up, but Ukraine fluttered up quickly and pushed him back down on his bed before he could acknowledge the numb feeling in his legs. "You've been out for such a long time, I don't think you'll be able to walk," she confirmed quickly, settling Ivan back down in his sheets and tucking the covers around him. "China's…China's fine. H-He's not really in any position for visitors, though, so I think it's best if you just r-rested for a while, Russia-chan…"

" 'He's not in any position for visitors'?" Russia quoted, pushing himself up on his elbows at those words. Ukraine, after wiping her eyes, pushed him back down. Russia was horrified to see that he couldn't fight back—his struggling didn't do the least to affect his sister. "What happened to me? What aren't you telling me? I want to see Yao! What happened to him?"

"It's a very long story, Russia-chan," Ukraine said softly, sitting down slowly after she was sure that her little brother wouldn't try to toss off the covers in another escape attempt. "There's…there's so much that happened…are you sure that you want to hear all of it?" Russia nodded from where he was. Ukraine, who had never stopped crying in the first place, had to wipe away another torrent of tears before she could begin.

From there, Ukraine told an almost unreal story of everything that had occurred when Russia was out. It sounded somewhat like a very badly written horror novel, where everyone dies in the end. Russia heard of Canada and America—two twins that betrayed each other and turned on themselves. He felt like his insides froze at the mention of Canada being a killer. He vaguely recalled being suspicious, but never thought the quieter North American brother had it in him. He was told of Germany, Italy, and Japan; how the three had made unbelievable progress and how Japan had fallen for America. He was also told of how Japan killed America's previous boss, the bastard Reynolds, which sounded so un-Japan-like that Russia inhaled sharply.

Ukraine talked of the South American nations and the African ones disappearing, how Korea's tragic death broke Japan in half, how Taiwan was caught in an explosion and lost her legs. She talked of how Germany's face was mutilated in the same explosion and how he lost an eye, how Italy blamed himself for that. She told Russia of Sweden and Finland, of Iceland and Norway, of Vietnam and Japan. She whispered the part of Russia's own experiences when he was out—his head wound, how Canada helped him out, how the majority of his house was burned. And then, reaching the pinnacle of that topic, Ukraine's voice, if possible, sank even lower.

"There…there was a child," she said softly. Russia, who had been providing her with tissues the entire time that she had told the long tale, quickly passed her another one when he saw that her eyes were starting to water again. He, himself, was way too dumbstruck to do anything more than nod stupidly and gape. Ukraine sniffed in thanks before dabbing at her nose with the tissue. "His name…his name was New Russia." Ivan blinked.

" 'New Russia'?" he echoed, his brow knitting together in one of the first facial expressions he showed had since Ukraine had started the tale. "Wait…Katya…does that mean that the child was…?"

"Yes." Here Ukraine paused to blow her nose once more. "He…Vladimir was created by a group of your citizens that rebelled and split off from you after your government officials were assassinated and China took over." Ukraine teared up again, but she rejected the offer of another tissue. "He looked just like you. Just like you." She smiled sadly and swept her baby brother's hair out of his face.

"China took control?" Russia asked.

"Y-Yes, his boss and your newly elected one are making progress, obviously because you're awake, but a few of your people were afraid and so they cut off and formed a temporary area around St. Petersburg. That's how he was born."

"B-But…what happened to him?"

Ukraine's smile fell back into her depressed expression. She took a sip of her coffee before continuing. "Nussia, that's what everyone called him, he wasn't very happy in the first place. He wanted to go back to you, Ivan. He wanted to be one with you again." A ghost of a smile took Ukraine's face, but it disappeared as soon as it came. "He didn't…he didn't want to live anymore after a time. I suppose that the poor child saw how nothing good would come to him in this life. But he made China happy. He made China happy, so I think the child knew to stay, just so he could carry out what you couldn't in the meantime. Here, I have a picture."

Russia watched as Ukraine dug around in her pocket for a while, before pulling out a very thin wallet. She shuffled around in it for a few moments before surfacing with a small, rectangular piece of paper. Her eyes glanced over it briefly before passing it to her brother. Russia took the picture immediately and looked down, with surprise, at the small boy that was depicted there in vibrant colors. It looked like fall, with some red-orange leaves dancing down from the trees, dusting the ground in scarlet. The boy in the center was smiling widely, his arms full of a bunch of leaves. Russia was stunned to see that the boy truly looked like a younger version of him, even having the same eyes, but was much scrawnier with paler skin. His cheeks were pink, however, from the cold air that must have been biting at them, and he looked so sweet and healthy in that light, Russia felt the corners of his mouth lifting. His glanced over at the corner and was stunned to see China standing there making the peace sign at the camera with such a big scarf around his neck, it covered his mouth.

"What was…what was he like? Nussia?" Ivan asked quietly, bringing up a finger to trace the small child's bright smile.

"Nussia…he was very sarcastic." Russia looked up in surprise, causing Ukraine to giggle a bit. "You didn't think that he was like you, right? No, the little thing wasn't like you at all. He was…um…he liked to make jabs at people and had Belarus mad at him the first day that they met! He liked to wear sweatshirts every day, which made China a bit worried every time they went outside in the cold. But he seemed to be fine with it." Ukraine quieted. "But he wasn't happy. He was never happy. The picture that you're holding right now is the only picture that we have of him when he's smiling. I think that though he may have the body of a child, Nussia had always had the mind of an elder. Then again, he was part of you and you were always an elder at heart, Russia-chan," Ukraine giggled softly, touching his cheek. "He just gave the air that he was living as long as he had to before…before he was allowed to...be whole again."

"But…" Russia stared down at the happy little child. He looked like the type to appreciate life to the fullest. Why had he been so unhappy all the time? "What happened to him?"

Ukraine's face fell. "He died."

Ivan's heart cracked in two. "So the civilian government collapsed," Russia said, the picture in his fingers suddenly feeling fake. He just then noticed the dark shadows under the child's eyes, how tired the small boy looked, and how violent the sky had been. It looked like it was about to rain. China, too, looked like he was fighting to stand up, and his eyes, which previously looked playful, seemed wearier. He felt a lash of resentment. "They shouldn't have split in the first place. Yao would have taken care of them."

"No, the government didn't collapse, not yet anyway." A new wave of tears came to Ukraine's face, and Russia hastily passed her a tissue, which she took this time. "He was murdered." Ivan's eyes snapped to his sister's face immediately, and Ukraine looked like she was about to break down again when she saw her brother's heartbroken expression.

"W-What?"

"The killers got to him." Any happy feelings Russia may have had a moment before dissipated immediately. Ukraine's previously satisfied expression also fell, and she buried her face in her hands, her coffee cup on the ground long forgotten. Russia looked back down to the picture, a few tears beginning to squeeze out from his own eyes.

"Why couldn't they spare him?" he felt himself asking, his voice cracking as droplets of water started falling on Nussia's picture, one of them landing right on the young nation's face, blurring the image. Ivan immediately began rubbing at it with his hand, but the damage was done. The last piece of Nussia's smiling face was gone. Russia, upon realizing that, gave another sniffle as his tears landed right around the boy's head. "Why couldn't they spare him? It..." Russia reached up to touch his heart and froze when his fingertips brushed the rough gauze of bandages. Confused, he lifted his gown and looked down, seeing his entire torso wrapped.

"That's what his death did to you," Ukraine explained, her voice strained as she tried to hold back her tears. "He was still apart of you. He was you." Russia's eyes widened in realization. The reason he felt incomplete and empty was because part of himself was truly dead.

"Th-That's why it hurts so much, right?" Russia whispered, his attention shifting back to the ruined photo. "H-He, was a part of me that didn't want to be controlled. The part of me that didn't want anyone else taking care of me." He gave a small laugh, though it was a dry and miserable sound. "My people, they can be quite stubborn when they feel they are being faced with oppression." His smile turned to one of bitter sadness. "God knows I've put them all through enough." Ukraine gave him a soft smile of her own, a tentative quirk of her lips, and wiped her eyes.

"China sent aid to the area, and clearly he allowed Nussia himself to stay with him, but Nussia's personal goal wasn't to be your replacement," she reported.

"I know," Russia replied.

There was nothing but silence for what felt like hours, the ticking of a faraway clock counting the minutes. Russia continued to stare down at the bandages, at what was lost, feeling the gap as if it were eating him alive. "They don't spare anyone, you know that," Ukraine whispered suddenly. She reached forward and took her brother's hand before continuing. "Nussia…Nussia's head was bashed in with a…with a heavy object of some sort. They found his body…it looked…" Russia looked down, his tears creating an increasing wet spot on his blanket. He hastily rubbed at his eyes. "Russia-chan…if you want me to stop…"

"N-No…" Ivan sniffed and laughed weakly. "Y-You're fine. That's…that's so s-stupid, right? I-I mean, I never even met the kid…and…and I still…" The picture drifted from his fingertips and slid gently under the bed, unnoticed by the two nations in the room. "I-I'm sorry, big sis, it j-just h-hurts..."

"Oh…" Ukraine slowly wrapped her arms around her little brother, her own tears already starting to flow out again, and let him cry out on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I mentioned it, I should have known better…but it's okay to cry for someone that you don't know, Ivan, it's okay, because we're connected to everyone and people everyday are dying, and the right thing to do would be to cry for all of them too, but there aren't nearly enough tears in the world, so it's okay to give a little to those who've passed on, because if you cry for them, then they'd know that they mattered a lot to you and that you loved them and that you'll still love them forever and ever and then they can rest in peace, so please don't worry anymore because little Nussia is happy and calm where he is now, and he's one of the nations that'll be safe forever…"

Russia cried even harder, because he _had _known this boy.

* * *

America gave a quiet sigh and burrowed deeper into his blankets, pulling the covers over his head. The sun couldn't manage to weave it's way through his thick curtain, but for some reason, it still felt like the outside world was too light, the entire atmosphere much too happy. Alfred's eyes narrowed from within his cocoon of blankets when he heard feet pattering in the hallways outside his house. Hadn't he told his states many times to not bother him so much that early in the morning? A hero needed his sleep! "Delaware, stop running around like that. You're gonna wake up Virginia, and she's gonna be pissed."

The sound of the feet outside stopped. America sighed and closed his eyes in satisfaction as the comfortable silence covered the house once more. He felt himself drifting off slowly, curling deeper into his sheets, feeling the warmth envelop him entirely. He could care less that it slowly became harder and harder to breathe, all he wanted was to feel warm and cozy and comfortable and this blanket was so soft and smelled of some sort of a spice or tea...

Next thing Alfred knew, he was awake once more and the pattering of feet outside was starting up again, although it seems like this time, the idiot was actually sprinting. America groaned and shifted to his other side, mumbling obscenities under his breath, praying that his states knew enough to stop before their daddy had to come out and cut the cable. Because by God, he would, he most certainly would, if that was what it took for them to stop. "Kids, I'm not joking, I swear, I'm gonna go out there and blow off all of your heads. I'm gonna start with you too, Delaware, don't think that I don't know it's you out there."

The pattering of feet once more stopped, but not a second later the silence was once more broken by a little giggle from outside America's door. The giggle was quickly followed by shushing sounds, and then silence was quickly present once more. However, Alfred's entire relatively peaceful mood was finally shattered by the playful sounds of his states, and he rolled onto his back and covered his face with his hand. "God, guys, I swear, if you're dumping another bucket of water on me, you can think twice, unless you wanna die an early death."

The door creaked. America opened his eyes and removed his hand from his brow, frowning. The semi-lit room was all that greeted his gaze, most of the light filtered pale red by his curtains. "Now I know you guys aren't coming in my room. Haven't I confirmed that it was off limits?" Another quiet giggle, and then a few more tapping of feet. Or was it tapping at the window? America turned to check in that direction, but nothing was there.

"Daddy, Daddy, I—" America heard whispered, a giggle or too smothered inside, but the voice was quickly shushed, a few more playful chuckles following that. A few more taps came, and America frowned when he realized that it really was coming from his window. Now how did his states get up to his window? His room was on the second floor.

A bitter smell filled the air.

America frowned immediately and sniffed it, wondering what it was, inquiring why it smelled so familiar. He was about to sit up, but a small head suddenly popped up in his vision, making him curse and flail immediately, instinctively reaching for the gun that he kept tucked against his headboard. "Oh, Daddy, you would never shoot me," little Rhode Island gigled, her hand pressed against her mouth in amusement. America finally sighed in relief, letting go of his grip on the gun and finally sitting up.

All of his states were gathered in his room, or at least so many of them that it felt like they were all there. Alfred grinned when he saw a small tray balanced in California's hands, the tall boy staring at him with his sly green eyes, long hair glistening like spun gold in the ample sunlight. "Are you in on this too, Cali?" America laughed, finally feeling awake as he looked at the spread that was in his tallest son's hands. "Are you secretly filming me for your latest blockbuster? Does it really involve those blueberry waffles, or are those there just to tease me?" California smiled and tossed his hair silently, passing the tray to timid Louisiana.

"O-Oh no!" Louisiana's sky blue eyes looked terrified, his short bleach blond hair waving as he closed his eyes and shook his head rapidly, as if in quick denial. "W-We just really wanted to make breakfast for you, you know? C-Cause with you being busy and all with the killers running around, we wanted for us to...you know...be, like, more a family for just a little while." Louisiana nervously tried to tuck a loose strand of his hair behind his ear and seemed to have momentarily forgotten the tray in his hands. Maine was quickly under it, on her tippie-toes to keep with her brother's height, her small hands helping hold up the large tray.

"Louisiana, you idiot, you idiot! It's heavy, it's heavy!"

"O-Oh! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

The grade-school looking Iowa, with his half-lidded brown eyes and same shade of hair, clambered into America's bed in his rocket pajamas and curled up right into the blankets with the nation, mumbling something quietly before closing his eyes. America stared down at the state with a smile before pulling the child closer to his side, wrapping an arm around him. "Well if the food's for me, then bring it here! I wanna try some of those eggs! Who made those?"

"Me! Me!" Maryland piped up immediately in his slight English accent, trying to push herself onto America's bed as well, scootching and squishing Iowa for America's attention. Iowa cracked an eye open and smiled slightly, rolling over so his smaller sister got the attention. Despite that, Maryland still stuck out her tongue at Iowa, giving a playful, "Nyah!"

"Be nice, May-May," Florida laughed, her ponytail swishing as she swooped in to give her sister a noogie that made her squirm and squeak uncomfortably. Bouncy Oregon, who had dyed her hair bright green, jumped over and gracefully plucked the tray from Louisiana's loose grip before setting it down in America's lap. Florida peered back up at that and smirked. "I made those waffles, by the way! I saw you looking at them like you wanted to rape them."

"Language, Florida!" New York snapped immediately, his eyebrows furrowing just like England's would when he was cross. "You don't want the smaller ones picking up on your vile behavior at this age, do you?" Florida grinned and snorted at her brother.

"Oh come on, Yorkie, they live in the fucking United States of America! They'll pick up eventually," she laughed happily, posing as Colorado and Arizona turned their cameras on her, acting as the permanent yearbook committee, ignoring completely the exasperated sigh that came from New York.

"I made the lollipop!" New Jersey piped up immediately, leaning on the bed on her elbows and looking at America with a childish happiness.

"You didn't make the lollipop, baby, you found it in the cupboard," North Carolina giggled. She intertwined her arms with a mirror image of herself, down to the last hair on her head, and grinned at America, tilting her head playfully with South Carolina so they looked like they were moving as one. "Daddy, Daddy, me and South picked that flower! And all of us together signed that card! You have to open that first!"

America couldn't help the wide smile that spread across his face right then. "And how early did you guys get up to get all this put together? You do know that if you loose a ton of sleep, England's gonna kick my ass if he comes around to check on you." New York glared at his parent nation as if accusing him for using the random curse word that had been tossed in his speech, but the little ones just giggled and scooted closer to the bed.

"We didn't sleep at all!" Oregon declared, sounding terribly proud of herself, clambering onto the bed. America frowned as the bitter taste from before wafted up as the states continued shuffling around, all of them gathered around the edge of his bed now, a few curled up against him. He felt Liberty, Virginia's cat, wrap around his leg and fall asleep just as America had to turn his head and cough into his fist, overwhelmed by the scent. "Hey...hey, Daddy, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," America said immediately, pushing down the bile in his throat to smile weakly at his states, who all looked concerned in their own ways. He couldn't ruin the happy moment now, especially since they were so rare in the first place. Looking for a distraction, America reached for the card that was propped in the middle of the tray. "Now, let's see what it was that you guys were working on since daybreak!" The younger states giggled again, the older ones nudging each other with a grin.

America took a quick glance of the cover and couldn't help but laugh out loud. Right there, drawn on the front of the card, was a gigantic American flag drawn with colored pencils, markers, paints, crayons, pens, glitter glue, and beads. He ran his hand down one of the beads that stood as stars on the flag and smiled. Alfred took a quick count, and was astonished to find all fifty stars on there. "You little devils actually put the right number of stars and stripes on it."

"What can we say, we did stay up a long time working on it," Nebraska said, his eyes glinting playfully as he sneakily wrapped his arms around Washington's waist, who needed up spluttering and torquing out of the grip, a vibrant flush on his cheeks. "We each put one star on there, somehow. Pennsylvania ended up sewing his patchwork star on there, and that took up most of the space, so you can hardly see West Virginia's."

"I'm obviously the best out of all of us, so why not take up some more space?" Pennsylvania laughed loudly, pumping his fist into the air. West Virginia, who was crushed between Pennsylvania and the wall, scowled and shoved the larger state out of his personal bubble. Pennsylvania, blissfully unaware of West's irritation, tossed a arm back around the smaller male and shouted from the other side of the room, "Open that card now! I wanna see your face when you look at it!"

America smiled and obeyed, flipping it open with his thumb. _Thank you, Daddy!_, was written in large, bold bubble letters across the entire span of the card, but that wasn't what first caught America's attention, despite the gigantic amount of space that it took up. No, the first thing that Alfred looked at, the first thing that drew his attention, were the fifty garnet-colored fingerprints that were stamped on, the small writing of each state's name right along the circumference of the fingerprint.

That, and the one-more strong scent that followed when he opened the card.

America slowly, his hand trembling, raised his arm up to cover his mouth just as the familiar taste of bile rose again in his throat. Blood. The fingerprints were stamped in blood. America didn't even need to ask who's blood it was—it was painfully obvious, staring right at him. It was their own. They signed the card in their own blood. It should have been obvious to Alfred woke up, he should have been able to tell that it was a dream. He should have remembered, back then, that they weren't alive anymore, no, because Canada killed them all, Canada killed him all, didn't he?

_Why are they still here_?

"Daddy? Are you okay? What's wrong?" America felt dozens of hands grabbing at his wrists and arms in worry, but they didn't convey any warmth. They were cold, clammy, and seemed to claw at him more than comfort him. In fact, America had the faintest feeling of something _dripping_ into his lap. He looked down in worry, but saw nothing. "Daddy, what's wrong, what's wrong?" Suddenly, the whispers of his states turned into something colder, more mocking.

_I want to wake up_.

"Get—I-I'm fine!" America shook his arms violently, sending a few states careening towards the ground. Shrieks erupted from the girls as they jumped backwards to escape being pulled down by their other siblings. California immediately turned to glare at America with such hatred and disgust that the nation had to blink twice. The boy gently pulled a cowering Maryland out of the way and then bound forward with long strides, grabbing America's blanket and tugging it off his body. The breakfast tray flew into the air and landed face-down on the ground, a surprising rust red color beginning to spread out from the tray, the familiar bitter smell filling the air once more.

"You selfish bastard," California whispered, his cold eyes glaring down at America. Alfred gaped at his state, too much in a state of shock to react as the rest of his states began climbing onto his bed. "I can't believe that you could still believe that everything is still fine. After all this, you know that you're not kidding anyone. Take a look at these, America, and tell me nothing happened." The state tugged up his sleeves, causing America to blanch at the long, deep cuts that sliced right down his arms. "I was hung upside down and bled to death." The state moved in again, his voice lowering and quavering with fury. "These wounds are also on my legs. My murderer killed me in front of Virginia."

_I don't want to see them anymore. They're supposed to be gone._

The redhead state moved up and smiled cruelly at America. "You don't know what it feels like to see someone you care about be killed like that, and not be able to do anything. You know what I did, America?" She laughed. "I cried. I screamed for you. I screamed for you to help me. You know what I told Cali? I told him that you'd come to get us." Virginia intertwined her fingers with California's and tilted her head sweetly, smiling with her eyes. "I had to watch him die while telling him that everything would be okay. I watched him die while telling him that you'd come and get us, that you'd go and get revenge on us. Don't see you doing that now, can I?" Her fire-red hair swung out of the way, revealing three bullet holes piercing her forehead. "Didn't do anything about that, did you? Why is that?"

_MAKE THEM GO AWAY, MATTHEW._

A quiet giggle, and then Delaware surfaced from under America's bed, grinning. His neck was slit just like the night America found him coming home from China after luring Finland to his doom. A sick plopping waterfall of red gushed from the gash, the smell of blood and death became more concentrated when he walked forward, the other thirteen colonies following him. Maryland, with her head resting uneasily on her neck, a now visible slice across it. Rhode Island, a large crack, which had once been hidden by her hair, running from her forehead to her chin, looking as if something gigantic and sharp had lodged itself within. North and South Carolina, identical slashes across their necks, and Massachusetts, who clearly had his limbs sewn back on, making him look like a patchwork doll. Connecticut finally emerged from her hoodie, and America froze when he saw her completely blacked skin. "The reason why he didn't say anything is because Daddy knew all along, right?" Delaware giggled, the thirteen following him onto America's bed. "He didn't want to tell us, because he wanted it to be a good surprise!"

_Matthew, I need you here, I need you to wake me up, I need you to tell me this isn't happening..._

"I-I-I didn't know that you guys were going to be attacked!" America screeched, snapping out of his stupor and drawing his knees up to his chest immediately, his eyes darting around like a nervous gazelle's. "How could I have known? There's no way I could have found out!" The thirteen colonies surrounded him on the bed, Delaware moving forward to stand right in front of America.

"Lies," the small state whispered, his face falling into a glare. "_Lies_. You know all along, Daddy. You knew and you didn't do anything about it." His voice peaked and cracked, his face falling into a maniacal grin as the door creaked again. "Uncle! Uncle! Daddy doesn't listen to me! You'll have to try and persuade him instead!"

_Matthew, Matthew, Ma...tthew?_

"Un...cle...?" America was only able to whisper as his states all turned towards the door, laughing their child's laughs and jumping up and down with joy, as if it was any other day. Alfred felt himself shaking harder, faster, when he saw the shadow that staggered into the door as if drunk. America felt as if his head would burst with his states' joyful screeches, sounding like nails on a chalkboard to his ears.

"Uncle Matthew!"

"Uncle, uncle, look here, look here!"

"We showed him the card! We showed him like you told us to!"

"It's like a family reunion; oh, I'm so happy!"

Canada looked up at America through his eyelashes, his clothes dripping wet onto the carpet, his neck tilted in an inhuman angle. Alfred froze at seeing him, froze at seeing his brother again, froze at seeing the one person that gave up everything for him, and knew of it the entire time. Canada grinned at the eye contact and raised a hand playfully.

"Heya, big brother."

And America screamed.

He screamed and he flailed and he struck out at all of his states, slapping them all, kicking them off the bed, screaming and clawing at Delaware _who just refused to budge_, screaming for someone, anyone, to come and wake him up, because this wasn't happening, this wasn't possible, it wasn't like the dead could suddenly rise again, he needed someone to do something, _anything_, to stop his dream, because this wasn't fair, he wasn't going crazy, he wasn't—

"Alfred! Alfred! Stop it!"

And then suddenly, it wasn't Delaware that America was clawing at anymore, it was Japan. America stopped immediately, his entire expression frozen in shock at seeing Japan's now black eye, coupled with bruises on his neck and a torn lip. A soft groan came from the general direction of the carpet, and America looked down to see a very pissed Arthur, not New York, sprawled on the ground.

"You kicks hurt like hell," England confirmed, after making eye contact with his old colony. America turned, stunned, to see a still cautious Kiku with his hands in the air, his eyes wary, as if seeing if the rabid animal would loose it's mind again and dare to lunge out at him again.

America didn't want Japan to look at him like that. He didn't want anyone to look at him like that.

"Kiku," was all he could say before he lunged forward and tackled the Asian man into a hug, both of them falling backwards onto the bed. He immediately buried his nose into Japan's neck, inhaling that scent of spiced tea, trying, with all his will, to make the smell of blood disappear. "I...I dreamed...I dreamed that my states...they came back...they tried to kill me...and then Canada..."

"Shh, shh," Japan whispered, running his fingers through America's hair. Alfred felt himself becoming more calm just by hearing that voice, just by feeling the calm pulse from beneath him, just by feeling the reassuring tugging on his scalp, it suddenly felt as if everything would be okay. "Everything's okay, Alfred. I promise you, everything's okay now. You're awake, and we're here, everything's going to be okay..."

It was only later, when England and Japan watched America sleep, did Arthur whisper, "Are you sure that you shouldn't have told him that he was awake and was screaming at thin air?" Japan glared at him as both of them rose to leave the room, England pausing just a moment before tucking the covers tighter around Alfred and just lightly brushing the blond hair back from the forehead.

"I don't need Alfred to think that he's crazy," Japan hissed, catching England's dubious look. "I thought you cared about him too. Why are you so quick to rush to the conclusion that he's insane? That would just break him more, if we told him." Arthur looked momentarily offended, but Japan could care less. He turned down America's one gleaming hallway and stalked to the kitchen, expecting England to follow.

"I never once said that I didn't care about Alfred. I'm just saying that it might be better for us to tell him that he might be potentially seeing hallucinations instead of hiding it from him. You do know that he wouldn't exactly be happy when he finds out what we've been hiding from him. He probably doesn't even remember the time before this, or the time before that."

Japan sighed, becoming more and more irritated with England by the second. He supposed that he had never realized that he wasn't particularly fond of England, before, considering the fact that they had hardly regarded each other, but now that they were forced to live under the same roof, Japan could honestly confess that he wasn't that big of a fan of the European. "He might, he might not, that isn't too much of my concern. What matters to me most is keeping him safe, and if God forbid, England-san, I have to keep him safe from his own head, I will most definitely do it."

England was silent for the longest time, and then, without saying anything, he turned abruptly and stomped out the front door.

* * *

The air in a hospital room down the hall from Russia's room smelled and tasted like it had been recycled millions of times, contrasting to the feel of Ivan's room, which had been aired daily. The windows of the neglected room might as well have been glued down for all that they've been used, though it didn't seem like the single occupant of the room noticed or cared the least.

The one man sat there on the hospital bed all day long, staring out the window aimlessly. He no longer got many visitors, since it seemed like the other man that had been a regular visitor was always visiting another room. The occupant of the room had long forgotten his own name and everything about himself, having been reduced to a blind, emotionless rag doll ages ago. The nurses that entered his room occasionally to check his status and change his IV always noted that he didn't move the least.

Weeks ago, that man had moved his head occasionally and displayed at least remote motor skills. He had stared at people, in the least. Now, it was like he didn't even notice their entering and departing the room. It frightened the doctors, who had rarely seen any single person fall so far past sanity. They were also surprised by how hard the government officials fought against the man's transfer into a mental hospital, many well-known leaders actually showing up in person to keep him away from the loony bin.

It's become almost a sort of legend, the man in the room on the second floor that was so mentally torn beyond repair that he lost all memory of who he was, spending the remainder of his days scratching his ear when given the chance. A few children had actually snuck into the man's room just to stare at the sad example of a human being before being shooed out by the personnel of the hospital, who were also told by the Chinese government to keep the man's condition under wraps.

The occupant however, despite constant belief, was still alive in that shell of his body, though it might only be a small flicker of what once had been a satisfied life. He was still in there, shifting once every few days, turning over occasionally, but never actually registering anything. Only the most simple words remained to the man that forgot his own name. His feelings didn't register anymore in his own mind, and his opinions, which once added fuel to playful banter, were completely dissolved in darkness. All of this, forgetting everything, was China's way of protecting himself.

If you can't remember the past, how can it haunt you?

The man reflexively tried to raise a hand to scratch at his rotting ear, but was once more stopped by his straightjacket. How troublesome that thing was. It was annoying in the way that he couldn't even scratch itches on his arms, though it wasn't like he was inclined to do so anyway. China gave another halfhearted attempt to reach his ear, but was stopped again. It burned, it hurt, couldn't the doctors see that? Idiots they put in charge these days...

The door opened, and the other man, Hong Kong, who hadn't visited in ages, stepped in slowly, pushing a wheelchair in front of him. The man on the bed didn't feel their presence until an irritating crying sound cut through the general silence of that rotting room, which would have made China flinch horribly if he had been himself. However, he simply sat there and stared forward, wondering why the name that the girl was crying sounded so familiar.

"O-O-Oh my God, C-China, I-I can't b-believe that it's really you, _g__ē _gē, really, just how did you get like this..."

"Xian...it's no use at all, he can't hear you, all of the doctors say that he's not even there anymore." The girl collapsed against the back of the wheelchair and covered her face with her hands, beginning to cry softly. China thought that the man that was speaking was unbearably stupid. How could he not hear them? They were right there. He'd have to be insanely deaf to _not_ hear them, especially with that girl making all that racket. "Shush, Xian, we just have to hope that Ivan's wakening will bring him back to his senses—after all, it wouldn't really be the first time that Russia forced some sense into China, now would it?"

Taiwan shook her head obediently, but sniffled loudly nonetheless, using the long sleeve of her hospital gown to wipe hastily at her eyes upon seeing a few curious kids staring in the window from the hallway outside. "You...you really think that just seeing Russia'll make all of this better? You think that China'll...go back to his normal self after...after Ivan visits?"

"I'm guessing," Hong Kong said slowly, sinking into the chair by China's bedside after brushing his hand across it quickly, sweeping dust into the air. "After all, considering how much Russia cares about China and vice versa, it only makes sense that China would respond to him, right? After all, they've been together for all that time—I can't think of a time when they'd possibly be seperated."

"Well, they certainly haven't been apart before all of this killer stuff," Taiwan whispered, her eyes flickering around China's blank ones as if looking for any semblance of life inside. China found that her staring was irritating him the slightest, but it felt like a mere ant crawling up his arm when compared to the wonderful state of peace and bliss that he was in. "I just hope that Russia can still reach him even now."

And just as Taiwan spoke those words, down the hall, Ivan was struggling to walk, his hands pressed flat against the wall, Ukraine hovering at his side, terrified for her little brother's health. She had tried to persuade him against getting up and walking so soon after he had woken, but Russia wouldn't hear of it. Eventually, Hong Kong and Taiwan were called and told that Russia wanted to see China, and that they should be there, in the room, in case if anything happened. After all, China's mental health was still terribly unstable, so the doctors were wary to trust him.

"Which door?" Russia asked, strained, desperate, his eyes glancing pleadingly up at his older sister, practically begging. "Is it this one? That one on the right?"

Ukraine shook her head, her mouth dry. She wanted to feel proud of her little brother, she wanted to feel happy, but she couldn't. After all, this was exactly what Yellow had told her would happen. He had told her, word for word, what he predicted Russia would say, what his actions would be, but the killer had been terribly vague on what would happen later with China and what she should do...afterward. "Third on the left," she whispered hoarsely, using the exact words Yellow had used.

Russia nodded in appreciation before hobbling forward and almost falling flat on his face. Ukraine wanted to help him, but something deep inside her already knew that at this point, Russia would accept help from no one. She knew that every painful step that he was taking, every breath that was being taken from his underused lungs, all of it was for China. She really didn't mean that much in Russia's world anymore. Maybe that's what Yellow was talking about before. "How...how is Yao...in general?"

There was no use in lying anymore. "He's been doing terrible," Ukraine confessed. Russia froze, not getting this detail, but soon started staggering forward with more strength than before. Ukraine continued running up behind him, making sure that he didn't keel forward and fall flat on his face. "He's lost any semblance of reality. The doctors say that he's beyond help. They were talking about sending him to an asylum, but his boss isn't having any of it. No leader wants the rest of the world thinking their nation is cracked."

Russia's face looked pained, but he kept on forcing himself forward, almost crying with the amount of weight he was putting on his wobbly legs. "I have to...I have to make it to him...to tell him it's all okay..."

_I know. I know_, Ukraine thought. _You're right, Russia. You're right, Yellow. You're all right. I shouldn't fight it anymore. I'll do anything you ask of me, anything at all. I don't see any reason in going against it anymore. I can't see anything that I would win._

Ukraine watched as Russia grasped and flung open China's door faster than he had taken two steps at first. "Yao!" he cried immediately and leapt forward into the room. Ukraine could only stare at the door in shock before running forward into the room.

The first thing she saw was China.

Turned around and staring down at Russia with shock.

Ivan had wrapped his arms around the smaller male and buried his head in the China's shoulder, muttering Russian words so fast that even Ukraine had trouble distinguishing them. China only gaped down at the nation that was practically growing off of his torso, and then surprised everyone in the room with what he did next.

China screamed. Loud and clear, his unused voice popping, his eyes becoming insane as he quickly squirmed out of Russia's grip, backing himself into the junction between the wall and his headboard. Russia could only stare, too weakened to do anything else but that. "Y-Y-Yao..."

But nothing could reach China anymore. The nation's eyes looked far off, at Russia and not at Russia at the same time, his thin chest rising and falling with how fast he was hyperventilating. "Don't...don't hurt me..." China whispered, tears starting to fall down his face, a look of animalistic terror crossing his features, upon looking at Russia. "I'm...I'm sorry, Nussia! I'm sorry! Don't hurt me! Don't hurt me! Don't bring him here! I-I-I don't want to be hurt anymore!"

And Ukraine could only recall the final words that Yellow had spoke to her.

_This story won't have a happy ending, Katyusha. Make the best of what you have now._

* * *

**Yeah...so here's what Angel and I wanted to tell you.**

**We're dropping SLK.**

**I just can't really keep up with this anymore, and Desu-chan can vouch for me when I say that I have an overdue ficcie for her. I'm also freaking out because of school and everything else that seems to be piling up, especially with my self-confidence issue and my parents starting to go Asian on me. So this is goodbye from Lucky. :3**

**Don't worry though, this isn't the only one, LTAK is being dropped too, or so I hear from Angel.**


	39. Brazen Bull

**...Hai. 8D**

**I...I...I'll explain everything at the bottom for the people who'll read it. Meanwhile, iun wanna stop you guys from reading, so enjoy~ XD**

**Disclaimer: Me no own plz.**

* * *

I don't know what's happening.

I'm very confused, because no one smiles these days. Mrs. Ranson next door never even looks out and waves to me every morning like she used to. I still sit at the chair by bedroom window and look across to see her bedroom window and sit there and wait for her to come over so I can wave to her and she can wave to me and I can ask, "How goes your day, ma'am?" And then she'd laugh at me and wave her hand at me and grab her little cane and hobble downstairs and make cookies for me and then bring them over, and then Mommy will smile and laugh too and call me a little devil for making Mrs. Ranson go through all that trouble just to feed me, but Mrs. Ranson always goes, "Oh, Lily, it's really not that much trouble, I enjoy pleasing that little tyke."

I don't know what a little tyke is, but I suppose it's a good thing, since Mrs. Ranson never looked very mad at me. I'm happy at that. I don't like seeing people sad or mad.

But I haven't seen Mrs. Ranson in so long. When I sit by my window until the sun gets really high, she never comes to her window anymore. Her purple curtains that look so soft are always drawn together, and they haven't moved in the longest time. I haven't even seen her leaving her house anymore, and she hasn't brought me any cookies in ages. I tried asking Mommy about it a few times, but she just got a sad face and told me to run along and go watch TV. I told her that no, I wanted to see Mrs. Ranson, and that I'll bake cookies for her instead so that she doesn't have to make any for me this time, it'll be just like a surprise, isn't that fun? But Mommy just shook her head sadly and told me that we don't have as much stuff as we used to and she doesn't think that it'll be a good idea to bake cookies for Mrs. Ranson.

Mommy had told me to watch TV, but I'll give you a little secret that Mommy doesn't know about. I'm scared of the TV right now. Mmmhmm, everything on the TV is just so scary these days, they always show sad pictures and Phineus and Ferb doesn't play anymore, which makes me sad too. Whenever I use the remote to switch the channel, because I'm not big boy enough to reach the buttons on the TV, it always switches to some sad kids looking at the screen with very big eyes and very scared faces, looking like they didn't know what to do. They should ask their Mommy for what to do. A very big word appears next to each scared kid, and I could read one, though the other ones were really, really big for me to read.

One of the big words said, "AMERICA."

I don't know why America is on there, because everyone knows that America is the name of a country, so I asked Mommy about it. I asked, "Mommy, why do they have America written there in really big letters?" Just then, the picture changed to some more sad kids, but this time there was another, different word in the bottom. It said, "UNITED KINGDOM." I became excited, even though the kids in the picture still looked sad. "Mommy, Mommy, isn't that London? It is! It is London! Look, look, there's the hospital that you used to work at!"

Mommy had looked sad at my question. Maybe the TV showed these sad pictures so everyone could be sad and no one would be happy enough to play Pokemon and Teen Titans on the television. Mommy answered anyway. "Those are the kids in the countries around the world who don't have any parents." I had gaped at Mommy in wonder.

"So they don't have Mommies?"

"No, they don't have a mommy."

I didn't understand then, I still don't understand now. It's been a lotta days since then, so I think I've gotten a bit more smartness about what's been going on. I think the world is sick. I think the world is sick, because an...an alien or something came down and sucked all of the happiness out of my mommy and all of the other kids and Mommies in the world! That has to be it, because no one else would be mean enough to ever try and hurt those kiddies on the TV and take away their mommies!

But I try telling other people about the aliens, but they won't listen! They have to come together like those superheroes to save everyone, not frown at everything they see! Whenever I tell that to Mommy though, she just smiles sadly and says, "Oh, if only everyone thought like you, dear, everything would be better." And then she would hug me and then go into her room and cry a little more. I get really scared at these times, since when Mommy cries I feel really sad and I want to help her, but the door never opens for me when I try and go in to share some of my chocolate bar with Mommy.

So then I decided that I needed to make Mommy happy! I had told her, like this, "Mommy, let's go to Florida! Let's go to Disney World! Then we can all be happy and we can meet Mickey mouse and eat lotsa sweets and you won't have to be all sad all the time and sit in your room and cry, and I can share my chocolate with you then, okay?" Mommy had looked really surprised, so I had hugged her and told her again that we should go to Disney, so she'd feel better, and she agreed!

That was three days ago.

...Mommy's gotten a little scary. Right after I said that we should go to Disney, she immediately started packing and telling me to get into the car and bring everything I would want to. I was really excited so I grabbed all of my action figures and told my Webkinz to take care of themselves for a while because I would be gone and I called Brian and bragged that I was going to Disney and he was stuck here. Brian wasn't happy about that, but then he told me right back that he was gonna have a sleepover and I didn't want to go to Disney as much anymore, but Mommy really wanted to go to Disney now, so I went with my mommy and we got in the car and started driving off.

Our car had a lotta stuff in it, and people stared at us funny as we were driving down the road, because hardly anyone drove anymore. I stuck out my tongue at Brian's house, who I was now cross with, and then we were off! I tried my hardest not to ask if we were there yet and stuff like that, that had always made Mommy mad at me after a while and then she would frown at me to be more quiet, we'll get there when we get there! But the one time that I did ask, my mommy actually answered me and said, "We'll be there in a day or so."

Driving wasn't as fun as it used to be. When everyone was happy, Mommy and Daddy and me would play a game where we would each take a color car and call out the color when we were on the highway. I always won. But this time, when I played with Mommy, I could only call one silver car, and Mommy couldn't see any red cars at all. Mommy seems really tired too, because even though there were no other cars on the road, Mommy still almost ran into someone else's mailbox and once, almost off the road. After a while, it seemed like Mommy didn't even remember the game, because she started holding the wheel-thingie really hard and saying scary stuff like, "I'll bring you to Disney, Carter, don't worry about it, Mommy's gonna make sure you're gonna get there, I'll make sure of it..."

Mommy looked really sick too, and she kept coughing and groaning and saying scary things about food. I offered her the one chocolate bar that I brought with me, but she shook her head and told me to promise that I would eat it myself. I was a little bit hungry too, but I lied and said that I would. Mommy doesn't know about it, but I love her a lotta lot. If she was ever more hungry than me, I would definitely give her my chocolate bar. The only problem is that I think she wouldn't eat it, but hopefully she'd be hungry enough to take it anyway.

Halfway through our second day of driving, our car suddenly stopped on the quiet highway. Mommy immediately began screaming and saying bad words and shaking the wheelie-thingie as if it had done something terrible to her. I undid my car seat and leaned over to see that Mommy was crying a lot, her head down in her arms, which was resting on the wheelie-thingie. I tried to make her feel better by offering her my chocolate, but after a while she must have fallen asleep because she suddenly stopped crying.

I crawled back to the back to get my chocolate bar for Mommy when she woke up and I sat down in the seat next to hers and waited for her to wake up. I waited for a really long time, and after a while, I got really, really hungry. I wanted to look in the back to see if there was any food back there, but I wanted to stay by Mommy when she woke up, so then she'd see that she wasn't alone and that I was still here.

It became night and then day again and Mommy still didn't wake up. I started getting really sleepy halfway through the night and my tummy hurt because I was so hungry and there were some scary sounds around so I tried to turn on the light in the car but it wouldn't come on. I started crying before morning came because I was scared and Mommy still hasn't woken up. Then the sun got really high and it got really hot in the car but I didn't know how to open the doors because they were locked but it was okay, because I could take the hotness, but I really needed to go potty.

It was a really long time before it was night again and Mommy still hasn't woken up, I cry a lot more and it's making me feel really really thirsty and I just want Daddy to come home, but I remember that Mommy had said that, "Daddy's airplane isn't coming back." I don't know what that means, but I just wish that Daddy could be a superhero like the ones off of Cartoon Network that they stopped showing and I hope that he could come and wake up Mommy and we can all go to the park and feed the duckies there and picnic and do all the fun things before everyone got all sad.

I feel like I'm going to go to sleep soon too because my mouth is really really dry and my tummy hurts a lot and I already peed on the seat but I can't move because Mommy's still asleep, I need to be there when Mommy wakes up, then she knows that I stayed by her and we can keep on going to Disney like this and then we can all be happy and meet Mickey like I said before. The chocolate bar looks really good but I still can't eat that either because I'm saving it for Mommy so she can be happy when she wakes up, so hurry and wake up, Mommy, hurry and wake up, I'm getting sleepy too, I want to go to sleep too but I can't do it, can I, because you'll wake up and see me asleep and that would be bad, wouldn't it...?

Mommy...Mommy...you're not waking up are you...you're not waking up...I know it for sure now...but it's okay...it's okay because...because I'll...I'll go to sleep with you...okay...? Okay...? So don't...please don't...don't leave me...okay? You...you have to wait...wait...for...for m...

…

* * *

America's eyes were dark as he walked along the street, the remains of Washington piled in a horrid wasteland around him. Japan stood by his side, his brows furrowed in concern as the two walked several feet apart, Japan's hands at his side while America's were stuffed into the pockets of his bomber jacket.

What was once America's heart was nothing more than a blackened mess. All the memorials were now heaps of rubble, and centuries of work and hardship were now burnt to the ground. Japan had to close his eyes against the flashbacks of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. They had been worse, but this…this was still up there on the list of horrors he had seen in his long life. Washington DC was now nothing more than a fading memory.

A corpse like most of the world.

Japan glanced sideways at America as they walked past a column of smoke still rising, the guilt overpowering.

Half of himself was hoping that America would turn around and yell at him, but America did no such thing. As they numbly walked by the Washington Memorial, now collapsed brokenly on its side, and the Reflection Pool, now full of floating bodies and scum, America didn't seem to register any of it. It almost seemed like…he didn't care.

Japan shook his head roughly. Surely America was just in shock, though a subtle, more sensible part of his mind thought back to the other nation's newly aggressive behavior and hallucinations. A part of Japan was actually afraid of America now, of what Canada's death had done to him.

"We're here…again," Alfred whispered, his voice void as dead space. Japan surfaced from his thoughts to stare at what was left of the White House, now nothing but a shadow of what it once was. The pearly ivory of the building was blackened from the harsh licks from the flames, while the roof had caved in tragically. Japan felt his throat tighten, for once sickened by the efficiency of his own troops.

By attacking America, he'd violated countless treaties, but at this point, no one seemed to care. Not even America.

Japan studied America's profile, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, and the untidy mess that was his usually straight and vibrant hair. America was pale, sick almost, and yesterday Japan had caught him coughing up blood in the toilet. England had been furious and scared, but he'd said nothing, knowing confronting the America now wasn't like confronting the America from merely six months ago.

He was like a rubber band stretched to its limit. One more tug and he'd snap, possibly turning on everyone, including himself. Japan's heart had been breaking ever since he first woke up. Even though he'd confessed his feelings, he felt as if he were too late. Something had slipped away when he'd been wasting time dodging the simple truth he loved America, and now there was no getting it back.

Suddenly, America bent down and picked up a piece of rubble, once part of the black iron gate around the once emerald lawn of the White House. His dull blue eyes stared listlessly at the rubble in his hand, his lips suddenly trembling. For once, tears welled like a rising tide and Japan opened his mouth to speak, not sure what he was going to say, but wanting to say something, _anything_, to make those tears stop.

Yet, before he was able to summon his voice, America's eyes flashed dangerously and he hurled the tiny chunk of fence at the White House. It hit the side and broke through the ruined building with the force of America's throw. Japan stared in horror, frozen to the spot as the other nation continued to angrily hurl discarded ruble at his boss's former home.

"It's all your fault!" America screamed, continuing to pelt the destroyed building. Japan stood, doing nothing, his hands frozen at his side. He didn't know what he should do, and didn't dare try to stop him. Waking America from his panicked hallucinations was dangerous enough. The bruises around his shoulders still throbbed from merely a day ago, where America straddled and shook him, begging for forgiveness, thinking he was someone else. "You made me like this!" America's body jerked with every throw, his arm causing the air to hiss around it as it propelled to projectile forward.

"You all did this to me! Every," he threw another piece of rubble, "Single," a brick this time, "One," his hands found a rock and away it went, "Of you!" Finally, America lost his footing and fell forward on his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. His shoulders heaved with each gut-retching cry, tears streaming down his cheeks as he hugged himself. "You all did this," he whimpered, curling into himself. "You all ruined me." America bowed his head, the tips of his blond hair brushing the ground. "I was a hero. I was a hero."

"America…" Japan murmured, not sure what else to say. He didn't even know what America meant when he said "all of you." Was he talking about his people? Or the world? What could he say to stop this? America's eyes were bright pools of hurt and sheer agony as he lifted his head, staring at the White House with a mixture of grief and revulsion. A small breeze gusted by, seemingly echoing in the emptiness of it all. "I should have died in that cave. I should have let Canada do it."

A cruel knife dug itself in Japan's gut.

"I-I don't want to be like this!" America wailed. "J-Japan, I-I don't want to be like this! I-I want to b-be a hero again! I want England to yell at me instead of being afraid of me, I want France to be a perv, and China to bug me about paying off my debt. I want Romano to be a jerk to Spain, Switzerland to threaten everyone with a gun, Liechtenstein to follow him like a puppy, Denmark to be his bossy self, Russia to smile like a creep, and I want…" America halted to stifle a sob and clutch at his chest, his eyes squeezing shut in pain as if he'd just been stabbed, "and I want Canada to come back."

Japan looked down at the ground. He despised thinking of that day when America had to choose between him and his own flesh and blood. The question plagued Japan every day whether or not America would make the same decision. He didn't dare ask, but looking at the traumatized nation now and seeing him so destroyed made Japan aware of the possibility that America regretted his choice.

"I miss him so much," America whimpered suddenly, bringing Japan out of his thoughts. "I own his land now, because my government is taking control up there. They're all scared, you know?" America's voice was quiet, restrained. "I look at his people, and they're…they're all so beautiful, but they're scared and they hate me, and his provinces are all dying, did you know?" Japan bit his lower lip.

"H-Hai, I'm aware," he finally murmured, remembering after the initial meeting that took place shortly after Canada's death, the other nations once again agreed not to meet, instead resorting to email and video meetings. News of Canada's dying provinces was circulated throughout the globe along with Russia's awakening.

"It's not a peaceful death," America said. "Quebec died this morning. I give the others about a week. They can't survive with me." He punched the ground so hard his fist went through the concrete. "I'm so useless! I can't even save any part of him! Dammit why? Why did things turn out like this? I'm the worst brother in the world."

"I'm sorry," Japan apologized, not sure if it was the proper response, but not knowing what else to say. Frustratingly enough, it was now even harder to speak with America. Surviving Canada together seemed only to make the distance between them grow larger instead of bringing them together.

"I should just shoot them in the head and get it over with it," he muttered, his voice suddenly growing dark.

"America…don't…" Japan said weakly, holding him tighter.

"Don't what?"

Japan licked his lips nervously, his chest aching and tight against his heart. "Please don't…say things like that." America was silent, his body trembling.

"You know, sometimes I walk down the street and I see someone with that ridiculously wavy blond hair and I think it's him, but then they turn around and it's not him, and I realize, that it will _never _be him. Yesterday I caught myself about to call him. It feels…it feels like I'm only half of myself without him."

"He was sick, America," Japan whispered. America shook his head, on the verge of working himself up again.

"No, he wasn't. It wasn't his fault," the other country managed to say through his tears. "None of it was his fault. He was supposed to come back. I...got him killed." Japan held his tongue at America's denial and stiffened as Canada's psychotic laughter came back to mind along Vietnam and Finland's deaths. Canada slaughtered them so cruelly and left Norway's body out in the woods like discarded trash. Still, Japan said nothing, not wanting America to throw himself into another rage.

"J-Japan, the other day…when I had that nightmare about my states, I wasn't sleeping, was I?" Japan's eyes widened as America lifted his head and finally looked at him. There was unspeakable amounts of pain within those watery blue pools, but now confronted with America face to face, the lie he'd been preparing wouldn't come. Lying had brought them here, and though at first it seemed to be the only way to protect America from himself, seeing the pain upfront, Japan knew it couldn't get worse. If he lied, America would know, and the trust the other nation had in him would die.

It was a miracle America even trusted him now.

Gently, he reached out a quivering hand and brushed America's tears away before letting his palm rest on his cheek. Japan felt his eyes burn and a lump rise in his throat as he stared silently. He loved this person so much and this was what it led to. Never before had Japan felt such a backlash of self hatred.

_I love you so much__, and this is what I helped do to you, _he thought miserably. England was right. He needed to be honest, to let America know just how much he was fighting against. Swallowing roughly, when he spoke his voice came out coarse and somber.

"No, America, you weren't sleeping." America's breath hitched again and he slumped forward until his face was buried in Japan's chest, the tears permeating the fabric.

"It wasn't Canada's fault," he whispered. "It wasn't his fault."

* * *

Plymouth Colony, Massachusetts – 1675

England stared blankly at the tiny colony sitting before him, blue eyes as bright as the sky staring at him innocently. It was impossible to believe this _child, _this soft-spoken and angelic being he had come to love as a younger brother was the reason for the carnage outside.

Behind the very walls of his own home, the streets were paved with shards of shattered glass and blood from those who had attempted to stop the boy in his rampage. America, sweet, little America had taken a board and busted in every window and home, and every person's skull who happened to garner too close. He was now sitting cheerfully on England's couch, his legs swinging happily and his head tilted, a sweet smile playing on his lips which would have caused the older nation to run and tackle him in a hug, if only his entire frame wasn't stained in blood.

King Phillip's war was going strong, the leader of the Wampanoag nation raiding villages left and right, killing innocent people. England wasn't surprised, it was in their kind's blood to be nothing short of savage, but here, at least with this tiny colony, he prayed he could save him and his brother. Yet this act of violence on behalf of the natives was enough to make England weeps for this poor, misguided child.

After the Wampanoags attacked the colonies of Middleborough and Dartmouth, England knew it was for the twins' best interest he separate them from the uncivilized, bloodthirsty nation they called their mother, despite clearly being of fine English stock. Of course, there was also that _one_ factor...that one point, that if the twins should find out or remember, this entire charade would fall apart, and Arthur knew that he would lose them for good.

Feeling a migraine threaten, England took a seat across from the child. America showed him the most beautiful smile, his shirt and trousers still speckled with blood. England gently, almost fearfully reached out his hand and smoothed a few strands of hair away from America's forehead.

"Why did you do it, America?" he asked gently. The little boy's smile turned slightly confused and he began swinging his feet faster. He tilted his head the other way, and for the briefest moment, England saw something dark and dangerous stirring behind those pretty blue eyes. He almost drew his hand back in surprise.

"Do what, Iggy? I have no clue what you're talking about." America's confused gaze disappeared, to be replaced by a large smile. _Was it just him, or did that smile look fake? _"I was so excited to hear you were coming back! Will you make me more of your delicious food? I wanted to try making it, but I still can't reach the oven yet and you always told me that I couldn't cook by myself because I'm not old enough. And it's almost lunch!" England felt his heart ache at the boy's innocence, part of him unable to believe he had done what England knew he had. He'd returned to the colony, finding the window's frames left with nothing but shards like jagged teeth, strong, hardy men sprawled in the streets with their heads caved in, and women crying, holding their children close to their bosoms.

Then in the middle of it all was the little blond boy with a board in one hand, his face expressionless and his warm eyes cold and unfeeling. It was summer, so the boy was without shoes, and as he walked, the chunks of glass dug into the fleshy pads of his feet. America hadn't even noticed, as if he were possessed by an evil spirit of some sort.

England was a strong believer in the occult, and yet he hoped possession was the case. He didn't want to believe America had caused harm on his own freewill.

America had walked stiff jointed, his hair matted with sweat from the effort and his head lolling on his shoulders as if he were drunk. England had only watched, the blood racing from his face down to the pit of his stomach where it festered along with the bile. America's breath was ragged, his eyes wide and as frigid as glaciers.

Then, the board had fallen from his hands, clicking amongst the glass shards. America then screamed, stumbling away as if finally realizing what had happened to his feet. After another terrifying moment, England realized his little colony's screaming was actually a phrase in another language, one of the many this child spoke.

England had observed the savages of the land, trying to learn more of their strange culture in his attempts to cleanse it from America's system. In translation, it was Wampanoag for_, I'm sorry_.

The colony's repeated shrieking was starting to grate on his ears.

England had been tempted to shoot him.

"Of course, America, but you need to tell me why you did this." Again, America was confused and reached forward to take England's hands. Arthur had to press his lips together when he felt the slick feeling of blood beginning to gather on his skin.

"I don't know what you're talking about," America said. England closed his eyes, quelling to flow of his exasperation. He felt his colony tugging lightly on his limb. "Iggy, Iggy, come on, let's play, let's play! If you don't want to eat right now, we can always play with the soldiers that you made for me! I still keep them on that same shelf, but if you want I can go get them so we can have a good—"

"America, I saw you standing out there with a board. Why did you do it?"

America was finally silent for a moment. England was about to give up when he felt his hands being dropped. "Because sometimes I think you're a bad person," America's voice, now low and void, something England had never heard before. He opened his eyes to see America was no longer smiling innocently. A dark expression overcame the child's face, and England began his search for any signs of possession. There was none. Though this was a side of America he had never seen before, this was still America. This was still his little brother.

"W-What?" he stuttered, his green eyes widening and all the blood draining from his face.

"_Etsi _says you're evil, but you say she's evil, and I love you both the same. I just want to make you both happy." England felt his resolve die and instantly wrapped his arms around the little colony, bringing him to his chest. He was confused was all, but England remembered pulling into Plymouth, and walking into the tiny town and seeing America standing in a field of sharp debris. England saw it in his head like a movie, America turning slowly, his blank blue eyes meeting his own frightened gaze as his head turned stiffly on his shoulders.

"Oh, America. I know you don't want to hurt anyone but…" England's voice faltered as America began to tremble and he began to cry, little sobs escaping him, his shoulders shaking. "A-America? Oh, please don't cry. You know I can't stand to see you cry, love. You don't have to worry. We'll sort this out with your mother and the natives and you won't have to feel so torn. Okay?"

However, as England gently pushed America back to wipe the tears from his face, he realized with growing horror that though the tears were falling freely, the eyes they fell from were like two holes in the universe, capable of sucking him in and suffocating him_. _They were so blue, so frighteningly blue with the added streams of messy tears. The shadows from outside hung under them, seemingly making them glow in the dark. Suddenly, the child reached up and grasped England's upper arm, his grip enough to make the bones groan with protest.

As America continued to stare, he thought back to the other boy, the one he couldn't quite remember, and suddenly wanted to rip his arm from America's grasp and run. Finally, America spoke, bowing his head.

"I don't want to, Iggy, but everyone's making me, and _I'm sorry_."

* * *

England narrowed his eyes at the book opened in his hands and shut it with a slam. He had read the past three chapters without registering a single word on the page, and instead had been thinking about the queerest memory of America that he might possess. "Of everything that I would remember about him..." he whispered, running his fingers down the spine of the novel. He frowned, and with a huff, got up to set it back on America's shelf, right between _Cooking for Kids_ and _The All-American Lifestyle_.

He pivoted and glanced around the house—at all of the small dust motes that were floating around the room. In a normal day when England would visit America's house, the states would be running around in seemingly meaningless circles, screaming things so loud and so weirdly that it would cause England to question whether or not they were actually speaking his language at all. Of course, whenever he was over, the Thirteen would either ignore his existence, speak one to two words to him at average, or prank him to the point where America had to apologize and ask England to leave for his own safety.

It was really a sad thing, in England's mind, that he had actually gotten used to the silence that had taken over America's house. He was no longer expecting small children to run around through the hallways and hadn't touched the fire extinguisher in such a long time. He stilled his breathing slightly, to see if he could actually hear the soft pattering of feet like he would have heard this late in the night. Instead, all he could even feel was America breathing slowly and evenly in the bedroom down the hall. He and Japan had went on a brief drive down to the capital, and the two came back with puffy eyes and what appeared to be a migraine, on Japan's part.

England didn't dare to even step foot in the general vicinity of the guest bedroom that he and Japan had ushered America in, forgetting about the lavish, but slightly abandoned master bedroom upstairs. He had learned that in time, America seemed to respond to the smallest of sounds, the quietest of breaths, and any wrong step made by the two other nations in the house could result in another hallucination.

Arthur looked back from the bookshelf, watching Japan as he sat calmly in the kitchen, his eyes staring forward with a very glazed expression. Gone were the white uniform and traditional clothes that he had always seen Japan dressed in. For the past two months when the three nations were forced under one roof, Japan had changed from his usual formal attire to a pair of dark jeans and a white shirt, both which England knew he scavenged from the states' closets, but he couldn't bring himself to care. After all, Arthur _was_ also clothed in petite little Louisiana's clothing, the light sweaters and loose jeans making his days seem a little less tight and strained than they would have been had he been wearing his usual uptight clothing. And besides, it wasn't like there would be any other nations to see him like this. He had fallen out of touch with many of them already, to be honest.

"Giving up on Sherlock Holmes for now?" Japan questioned suddenly in a monotone, almost making England jump as the Asian nation turned around to stare at him, dark shadows underlining his eyes. "I tried reading earlier today, it didn't work out too well for me either, England-san. I think you should try watching a movie instead, perhaps one of horror? Though I doubt it would compete with our life."

"Fucking hilarious you are," Arthur snorted silently as Japan turned around and stared forward again, ignoring England's comment as he had been for the past days. "Look, do me a favor and find something that you could actually joke about, and then get back to me on that one, okay?" He strolled over casually to the kitchen island and leaned against the marble, staring at the nation to his right. "It seems like you're losing it too these days. Or are you still going to play innocent and not deny even your own sanity?" Japan refused to look at him, choosing instead to keep staring forward.

"...Remember a time when we were good friends, England-san?"

England snorted at the sudden change in subject but didn't object. "Before I found out you had the China-syndrome, yes, we really were." Japan finally turned his head to stare at England, but something seemed to spark in his eye this time.

"China-syndrome."

"Insane denial of things that are staring at you right in front of your nose," England said, smiling bitterly. "Like—"

"America is not crazy, England-san." Japan was now staring fully at Arthur, almost glaring at him. "I don't care what you may think, because your opinion means nothing to me. I'm going to keep my thoughts as I will on America's sanity, and you may think of him as you will. Just please refrain from expressing your opinions on his sanity in front of my face."

"You think that even if the man hallucinates, he's still sane," England huffed, raising his eyebrows. "I don't know if it's Japanese people, or if it's just you, Kiku, but there really is something wrong with the way that you see things. Here in _English speaking countries_, we tend to classify people as insane if they thought that Hitler was a nice guy who loved to play bingo with the elderly, ate their own feces, got violent or had hallucinations, two of which America is suffering from."

"He has post traumatic stress, that doesn't mean he's crazy!" Japan snapped. England sighed, kneading his temples to quell the growing headache.

"Look, you know I love him, right?" Japan didn't answer, just kept his eyes trained on England, murky brown and humorless. "Come on, Japan, even beneath all the snark and yelling you know what that idiot means to me." He watched Japan tense with a bitter smile. "You know, he's…he's never been all there to begin with…"

"You're acting like he's one of _them,_" Japan said accusingly, his eyes narrowing dangerously. England didn't have to ask for clarification. Japan had long since stopped referring to the killers by their name, the Seven Whatever-L-Word-They-Felt-Like-Pulling-Out-Of-Their-Asses Killers.

"You know he and Canada were twins, right?"

"Yes, but I fail to see what that relation has to do with anything else that it could _possibly_ mean anything for."

"Well, I always thought this would be good for you to know," England said, the smallest of smiles taking his face. "That way it won't be too much of a shock the day your head was shoved in face-first into a bucket of water. Back when I was taking care of those two, I had stumbled across an interesting discovery. It seemed like America had been a natural born leader, even back then. Unfortunately, it almost felt like he wasn't leading...towards the right goals, if you understand what I'm saying..." England's eyes flickered up to Japan to see if he was catching on before continuing. "In actuality, it would have been wrong to classify it as leading...it would be more accurate to describe it as manipul—"

"Stop it," Japan interrupted. "I don't know where this theory came from, but America is not a killer, nor was he the mastermind behind any of Canada's doings."

"...And besides that, there was one other incident. When he was younger he had attacked the colony of Plymouth," England said as if Japan hadn't spoken at all. "He busted in all the windows with a board." Something in Japan's stance faltered and England raised an eyebrow curiously. He studied the other nation carefully before continuing in a quieter tone, "Your darling America had left carcasses lining the streets, children and adults alike dead in the roads. And though you don't even bother to give a shit about how much he means to me, he managed to scare years from my life with that. That's why I feel like the killers might have used him as a scapegoat at first." Japan looked confused. "When the killers first started eliminating targets...they must have pointed all of their fingers at America and Canada because they knew that it would cause Francis and I to..."

And here, England completely surprised Japan by shifting nervously, his eyes widening a bit like a trapped animal. It was then that Japan noticed how England's hands were clenched tightly and how his pupils seemed to dilate slightly in what one were clear green eyes, which now gave off a toxic sort of sheen. And despite how this normally would have normally cause Japan to question if he was okay or not, he instead felt a sick sort of pleasure at seeing Arthur in this state. "What, are you loosing it too, England-san? Are you seeing hallucinations as well?" Japan spat out before he could help it, a slow and disgusting smile beginning to spread across his face at his enemy's moment of weakness. His stomach suddenly felt to have no bottom, and he felt like he was floating, almost as if in a world away.

England looked up, his eyes gaining a bit more clarity as he narrowed them quickly, his next words coming out in a hiss. "How sane _I_ am is not something you should be worrying about." However, Japan was too far gone, and his eyes had also taken a slightly misted state as he leaned in on the kitchen island, smiling sweetly.

"Any dreams about a woman, possibly?" England lurched forward and gripped the marble top with white fingertips and trembling hands as he gave a slightly surprised squeak. Japan's grin only grew. "Oh, my apologies, England-san. Have I struck a nerve? Such a difficult thing to do, with you around. After all, there's absolutely _no_ dirt on your life now is there?" Japan pushed himself up from his bar stool and walked around to lean casually against the marble, watching as England's green eyes seemed to widen a ton more. "But then again, this woman..._Bridget_...shouldn't mean that much to you, right? After all it seemed like you killed her, with the way you were wailing and screaming in your sleep._"_ He watched with a sick satisfaction as the other nation in the room stumbled to his knees, the grip that his hands held on the island slacking slightly.

"I...I..." England stuttered messily, his hands sliding from the flat surface to slap loudly on the ground. Japan's grin became feline as he crouched down to England's eye-level. "Y-Y-Y-You're..." Kiku raised a stiff eyebrow at the distressed Brit, not unlike England had a moment ago. "B-Bridget...isn't...isn't..."

"Isn't your human lover? Some random citizen that you became attached to? A pet dog?" Japan found himself teasing, beginning to chuckle quietly to himself as he watched England's face color in fury, however, before the blond got a chance to interject and defend himself, both found themselves snapping their heads towards the door of the bedroom downstairs.

America stumbled out, his eyes unfocused as he spotted the two other nations in the room. "Canada," he whispered, his face breaking out into a smile as he ran forward and fell on his knees in front of England, who could only look up at him in shock. However, that seemed to not be what America was seeing. He took England's hands in his own, the European nation felt Japan exhale sharply and stand up like a board. "We don't have to hide anymore. They're all gone now. They all left. Now it's just you, and me, and no one else is here anymore. Everything's going to be okay, just like I said, right? Right?"

Just when Japan was about to agree with America for England, Arthur's eyes seemed to focus again and he stared up urgently at America, wriggling his hands out of his past-colony's grip. America's smile fell the slightest bit, but his eyes, as they were before, were fixed at a point to the side of England's head. "America...Alfred," he whispered, looking searchingly into blue eyes that weren't focused on him. "I'm not...I'm not Matthew. It's me, Arthur. England. Matthew is...Matthew is dead, _a-__anidawehi_," England tripped over the word, his tongue stumbling over the pronunciation of a word that he hadn't touched on in centuries. However, it seemed to have some effect on America in his state as it was then, because his gaze seemed to fixate slightly, _slightly_ on England. "D-Did you forget, Alfred? He...he was dropped off the waterfall, remember?"

America forced a confused smile on his face, giving the slightest bark of laughter as he pulled England into a tight hug. "B-But...Matthew...I don't know why it...why would you say things like that? How can you b-be dead if I'm hugging you right now? You make no sense sometimes. If you were dead, then you wouldn't be here r-right now, would you?" Alfred laughed loudly, as if raising his voice would cover the lack of sincerity in his speech. Japan watched as England turned his head to stare pointedly at Japan with tears already making their way halfway down his face, his gaze practically wailing, _And this child is still sane in your eyes?_

Japan merely set his jaw.

America's eyes widened as he began shaking. England pulled back and frowned at the sudden silence from the other. "A...lfred? Are you okay now?"

"It's not over yet," Japan said quietly.

And sure enough, America shot up like a bullet, staring down at England with a terrified expression. "M-M-Matthew...what's that...what's that...what's that w-wet stuff coming from your clothes? Is that..." He let his hand roam around England's face for a moment, brushing his hand against wet tears. America's mouth went slack for a single moment before he let out a scream, immediately jumping back to wipe his hands at his shirt. "M-Matthew! Why...why are you bleeding? Y-You can't a-actually be...be..." His stopped and stared at England for a few moments in shock.

"Alfred..." Arthur whispered, staggering to his feet. America immediately held up his hands, backing away from England as if he had something contagious. Japan caught the pained look on England's face.

"Stay away from me!" he screamed, his arms trembling as he shoved England back, causing the European nation to go stumbling against the wall. Japan immediately sidestepped Arthur, letting him almost collapse onto the ground. "You're not real! You're not real! I swear to God you've come back! You're here to kill me! Well I'm not going to go! I know what you're up to! You're trying to make me loose it! I'm not going to loose to you, dammit!" America gave a wretched sob before grabbing a glass vase from the stand next to him, hurling it at England.

"E-England-san!" Japan couldn't help exclaim when the European nation didn't make any move to dodge the item, and it instead slammed into his face and shattered, leaving glass shards to shatter onto the ground. However, this move only seemed to scare America even more, and he gave a strangled cry, grabbing a wine bottle from the cupboard and hurling it at England as well, watching as it showered the liquid on the other nation's shoulder.

"You're not real!" America shrieked, grabbing a flowerpot and chucking it at England's head, his eyes widening in terror when he saw that the other nation merely winced as the pot broke against the side of his face, dirt splattering onto the wood. "You're here just to play with my mind!" A coffee mug. "You think—" A picture frame. "That I'm stupid—" An iPod dock. "Enough to fall—" A large fruit plate. "For your shit? You dumbass!" England finally raised a hand to block the cutting knife as it embedded itself into his hand. "Get out!"

"Alfred, you don't know what you're saying," Japan said quietly, blocking a wine glass as it went soaring through the air in his direction. "That's England. A sorry excuse for a nation, but a nation nonetheless. The one who raised you. It's not Ca—"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE! YOU MONSTER! YOU MURDERER! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY FACE!"

England's eyes hardened at the exclamation, his mouth suddenly pulling into the slightest smirk as he scoffed lightly. Japan's eyes widened when he saw England's gaze _dying_ in front of his own eyes. His pupils seemed to almost disappear as he strolled forward, letting a steak knife lodge itself into his shoulder, as he reached America, and, ignoring the look of pure terror on his face, pulled his fist back and punched him right in the jaw.

America instantly fell quiet, his head jerking to the side and staying there.

"Get your head together, you stupid prat!" England hissed, his eyes cold and hard. Japan was rendered frozen as America lifted a hand to gently touch his newly bruised cheek. "I don't care what happened in that cave. You need to stop this. Now." America began to tremble. England then turned his cold gaze to where Japan stood like a mannequin, feeling nothing but firm determination. "And you, stop pretending he's normal. He needs help." America's trembling got worse and out of nowhere he shot up and lunged, his fingers grasping England's neck as if it were a captured snake.

"America!" Japan cried. England felt his throat clamp shut and the back of his head slam against the cold tile of the kitchen. England tried to claw at America's hands, distraught at the strength his former colony still possessed. His hands didn't budge, England's lungs screaming for air and his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.

Yet, it was America's face that had his full attention. The nation who was screaming before was long gone. There was no fear in his eyes, just pure, evil fury and his mouth was…_smiling. _Then, to England's utter horror, America began to lean forward, his leering grin mocking and his eyes sharp and piercing. Finally, when his lips were to England's ear, he whispered,

"Hey, Iggy, I have a secret." England couldn't respond, his eyes watering over as his fingers helplessly pried at the other nation's. Instead he gagged, attempting uselessly to turn his head away. "Canada wasn't Blue." England felt his heart stop, all his struggles ceasing as the truth rendered him frozen.

Of course. Canada was never capable of harming others unless he was forced into it. However, his own twin brother could. England remembered seeing the pictures from Mai Lai, all those innocent people sprawled like discarded toys, so achingly similar to Plymouth he wanted to throw up. His mind filled with terrifying white noise. There were still seven killers alive and well. America, as if sensing his thoughts gave a light giggle which could have been mistaken for a sob from Japan's perspective. "I am."

"America, let him go!" Japan shouted, finally rushing forward and dragging the larger nation off. England immediately sat up coughing and rubbing his neck, forcing the air back into his lungs before he turned and stumbled out the door, feeling those ice blue eyes burning a hole in his back.

* * *

Ukraine wrung her hands nervously as she tilted her head to attempt to see Russia's expression, which was being blocked by his long hair. She had only seen his face once after leaving China's room, and that was just to run a razor across his growing facial hair so his face would look as it did the morning that he was attacked. Ukraine had also offered to give his hair a trim, but Russia had objected in a monotonous voice, but allowed her to pull it into a ponytail, still a ton shorter than than his Asian lover's is. After that, Russia had either kept his gaze locked on the scenery outside the window or kept his head down, allowing the hair that wasn't pulled up to fall over his eyes.

"Russia...Ivan...please...you need to do something else other than sitting here," Katyusha whispered quietly, propping her elbows back on her little brother's bed and staring at the side of his head. "Come on, take a walk with me, we can go outside and take a refreshing breath outside. I'm sure the doctors will let us...you know how eager they are to get you out of this room."

Russia didn't answer.

Katyusha looked down and blinked back tears as the seconds stretched into a minute, which seemed to expand quickly into a full ten minutes, which then grew to encompass nearly half an hour. She had already peppered Russia's sheets with small, wet circles before she raised her fingers to brush the remaining wetness from her eyelashes. "I-I-I..." she found herself whispering, her head still down, "I-Ivan...p-please...please don't turn...turn into what Yao turned into..." Her eyes flickered up to see that Russia still wasn't paying attention, and she finally let her head fall into her arms with a wretched cry. "I'm begging you, Ivan! You can do anything, anything at all, I swear to God, but please, please don't become as dead as China did after you were attacked! All of his family—he practically abandoned all of his family, Russia! I won't be able to _stand_ it if you become like him too!"

A few more minutes passed in silence, Ukraine's breathing slowing down to where she could actually string together a few connections in her mind. She finally shook as tears threatened to erupt again, before he shoved herself out of her chair and spun around to make for the door.

The slightest tugs on her sleeve.

"I'll...I'll go with you, Katyusha. I'll go...go outside."

Katyusha's stomach plummeted.

_...Yo__u were right, Yellow. I should have learned by now._

_You're always right._

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Green said, twirling around in one of the spinny chairs in the SLK base. "Black won't let us have a water slide and pool in this place, because _why _again?"

"If we accidentally blow it up, it's gonna blow our cover. They'll wonder why there's a bunch of nations crawling around on the ground in their bathing suits, right outside the ruins of some old abandoned building," Yellow rattled off sweetly from his vantage point from Purple's lap. "And I doubt that you guys would be able to maintain a pool properly...Green and I would be the ones cleaning up."

"But Mommy and Daddy shouldn't mind cleaning that much, would they?" Pink sang happily from her spot on a bean bag, her wig swinging happily as she bobbed her head to the sound of a song in some language she didn't know. Green and Yellow exchanged glances before sighing.

"I don't know about your mommy, but Daddy doesn't want to clean up anymore," Green said bluntly, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he took another long spin in the chair, arms stretched wide.

"Mommy doesn't want to clean either," Yellow sighed, shaking his hair as Purple's fingers weaved themselves into his locks, tangling it slightly. "And who came up with the stupid family positions? I don't want to be the mom. As if I'm going to be doing all the cleaning in this place. I want to be the rebellious teenager that everyone let's crawl around the ground in misery and is bullied at school."

"Sorry, Mommy, I was already assigned that bullied teenager," Red mumbled from his point on the ground, one arm tossed over his eyes as he gave a deep sigh, humming along to the music, and even singing to it at a few points. "Too bad Korea had to die. No more pretty little boys prancing around with mascara. Doesn't that just suck?" Pink laughed and exclaimed in agreement before jumping up and dancing to the song, throwing her arms around and snapping her hips with perfect synchronization to the beat. Purple laughed from Yellow's side and whistled loudly, causing Yellow to smack him loudly in the leg.

"Didn't know you liked this song, Pinkie!" White smirked, jumping up and dancing with her, his movements mirroring the other dancer's smoothly.

"Didn't know you _knew_ this song, honey," Pink giggled, grinding with the other as he got close enough. Red rolled his eyes but smiled slightly, taking White's hand as he pulled him into the makeshift dance floor, which just happened to be a large world map that was engraved on the ground. "And you three wonder why you're considered the old farts of the group!" the girl laughed, throwing a glance at the three stationary killers.

"I'd be happy to go up there and join you, Pinkie-babe, but I have priority-one close to something that I don't want to see bitten off.," Purple said, smiling.

"Damn straight," Yellow laughed, grabbing one of Purple's hands and playing with his fingers. "Just wondering, love, if I'm supposed to be the mother figure, and Green's the father figure, what the hell does that make you?"

"The hot next door neighbor that you cheat on me with because I'm running out of the house at night to see prostitutes," Green said sweetly, looking at the other two killers in his upside-down view that he got from having his head back that far. "Our children are devastated, which is why they keep screwing their friends when they go over to their houses. Despite the fact that all of them are between the ages of thirteen and fifteen."

"I don't even look that young! I'm old enough to screw someone, thank you very much!" Red shouted from the other corner of the room, swinging his head around and glaring at the three killers with piercing eyes, just as the music changed and Pink squealed excitedly, falling into the beat immediately, dragging a now half-willing Red with her. Purple frowned when he heard something outside the beat.

"Phone, babe," he said quietly, only to see Yellow already pulling out his phone with a weary sigh. His fingers dug in deeper and tugged gently on the short locks, as if in a notion of comfort. "Who is it?"

"Orange, love," the smaller killer said, tight-lipped before picking up. "Hello, love. No, just ignore the noise in the background, a few of the killers are demonstrating their dancing skills...oh, well then, love, I'm proud of you. Just wait, take him to the place I talked about, and I'll meet you there, okay? Do all those preparations when he isn't looking, remember? ...Good. Talk to you later." Yellow hung up and tugged his head wearily from Purple's lap, brushing his lips just faintly over the other killer's before sighing and shouting over the music, which was turned up to an insane degree, "Pink, it's time! Are you good to go?"

Pink looked over her shoulder and smirked, untangling herself easily from White's limbs. "Got it, honey! One Netherlands and Belgium on a platter for your dining pleasure!" Red yelped as White dragged him to dance with him, not the least daunted by the disappearance of his first dancing partner.

"No," Yellow said, frowning, as he stood up and stretched. "You're going to be taking care of them for me. All you have to do is follow a script I already typed up."

"Script?"

"You'll do fine, Pink," the motherly killer said sweetly, pulling on a coat before tossing back his hair and firmly setting his mask on his face before peeling off Purple's fingers, which seemed to magically glue themselves onto the smaller killer's waist. "Go with Pink, love, make sure that she doesn't get into too much trouble, will you?"

"Fine with me," the violet killer muttered before pressing his lips slowly to his lover's own. "Take care of yourself, babe, I want to see you back to me in one piece, please."

"Yeah, especially when dealing with Blue. Black's practically in love with him, and no doubt he'll be pissed once he finds out what you've got planned. I'm just surprised America's plan really did work," Pink said. "That guy is seriously screwed up. I mean, worse than us."

"He's worse than a cockroach if you ask me," Yellow hissed, his hands tightening into fists.

"Well, at least we know America isn't indisposed to using people and that his plans, although elaborate, are very good," Green offered.

"He got his twin brother to do all the killing for him!" Yellow cried, throwing his hands up. "That's not being clever, that's being lazy!"

"Yes, but to get him to do so was tricky," Pink spoke up. "I mean, he explained it all to me, but it was way too difficult for me to grasp."

"_Tch_, it was easy if you idiots could follow along," White snickered. "He was going to confuse Canada with all the ridiculous planning, get him to do all the killing and dirty work, all while pulling the strings. Meantime after Canada's use runs out and he's killed, everyone else thinks the blue killer is dead while America is pitied and is thought of as traumatized rather than the apeshit sadist he is. It's brilliant really, though America was never one to be all that smart."

"He's the most powerful nation in the world," Yellow reminded darkly. "He may act stupid and do stupid things, but that doesn't mean he is stupid. Poor little Canada was seduced by that, undoubtedly. Though no wonder Black has such a boner for him. If I could manipulate like that _I'd _be top dog around here."

"Is that what this is all about?" Red questioned flatly. "Competition for Black's affection?" Yellow turned away from his companions, his eyes flashing darkly.

"I'll show that little shit how one really fucks with the world, loves," he chuckled softly.

"Just...hurry back," Purple said softly, hesitantly holding his hand out towards the other killer's back.

"Yay, it can be a party, Purple!" Pink exclaimed happily, bouncing over two the two, tugging childishly on Purple's sleeve. "But where _are_ you going to be, Mommy?" Yellow sighed, exasperatedly, at the nickname, but didn't comment.

"I'm going to supervise our little Orange for now. I have to make sure that she follows orders, or else America might slip out of our reach. Luckily Black's attention is elsewhere for the moment so he won't know what really happened to his precious Blue. I predicted everything that's going to happen but I'm still not positive that she might try and something that would ruin everything." Yellow smiled slightly as he slapped a pouting Purple's hands from his ass. "Since we need to play our cards right with America, especially, things are going to get tight. I hope you guys understand if Mommy isn't home for a few days."

"Okay, wifey, come back soon!" Green sang from his chair, turning in little half-circles now.

Purple smirked playfully at him. "Don't push it, babe, Momma's still mine." He finally managed to land a loud smack on Yellow's behind, making the other killers laugh at the murderous expression on Yellow's face before he strolled out of the room, flipping Purple the birdie.

"Not a very child friendly environment, is it," Red muttered quietly, earning himself a bark of laughter and a dogpile from the other killers.

* * *

**Okay. Shout outs first. XD**

**SO, THANKS A BUNCH TO: italiachick13, kyashiidreams, no name, thecakeisaLIE, Sal30100, .Phantom, hyuugahealer3, YO, liian risera, Kirou, KayosHybrid, Anime Freak Sammy, simba-rulz, Nom-Kitty, dellums, Yume Ninja, FlyingHigh13, Hope, Tatsumaki-sama, kurai ren, Annacat101, AlmightyHero, AntonioAndRomano4Ever, SadisticSunflower, GreenTriforceLuvr, Anonymous Impatient Canadian, LvNa-cHaN, Starlight Amethyst, Play The Overture, A-Hime, nano-desu13, ImmortalKiky, The Happy Stalker Ball, Dontmezwitme, Anonymous, Foot, , ArixaBell, GilBird The Awesome, rianifitria, DanCing, XdeleteXaccountX **(Darona?)**, EmoPuppy, lomki22, 15animefreak15, Naomi Hansen, LolliDictator, Emeralddragon694, WhimsicalShmoo, Celestie, Acriym, xYukii, Tyde07, LightBender, The Metal Cervidae, CanadianCookie, HandInTheCookieJar, Tinkeroftime, Yume Ninja, maikyaera, rae1112, LupinandHarry, EBIL DUSTBUNNY OF DOOOOM, Canadino, lazytologin, Xai, NeSie, lovemehateme, Durarara-Love, Cherri, Resident Fruit Knife, EmoLollipop, Fret, , SpazztikpRiDe18, EvilAnimeGoodness, darandomninja, avaspongeriffic, ninjafox369, nagihachan, the e t e r n a l -STORY, Dreamers Deranged, Half-Blood Warrior Kitty, Reaper-Lawliet, sung-me, and finally~ yorune!**

**Lucky is currently using her BFF Rah-bear to help post these last comments because her time on the computer has run out. Anyways, you guys, I just wanted to tell you that this was an April Fool's joke but then life actually did come and stop things for a while. (Plus, it was Lucky who was writing, so it would be slow anyways)**

**But you guys really did react in a way that Angel and I did not think you would. We were really surprised that there were so many people out there who actually cared not only about writing this fanfic, but also about that bluff that Angel and I had problems in our life, because we really didn't think that anyone would take us that seriously. So we were really touched by that, and then after we discovered that you guys made a petition to continue this fanfic, we were even more touched. And then I started getting that sinking feeling in my stomach that you usually get when you steal a little kid's cookies and you have to watch them cry.**

**Basically, long story short, we were very surprised that you guys cared so much about us that Lucky, as a way of making it up to you guys, is now manipulating Rah-bear to type out everything as she talks on a Skype call. (Even though Rah-bear is trying to survive the deadly world of World of Warcraft.)**

**Hope that you guys are still following this, **

**~Lucky**


	40. The Maiden

Oh how Lucky abuses me *cries* Well, here's the next chapter for you! Angel is currently nursing bleeding fingers for this. Hope you all enjoy the next installment of Yellow's craziness.

Disclaimer: We own nothing

* * *

"Green, are you ready for this?" Yellow asked, his hand tight around the disposable cell phone.

"Of course," the other killer replied tartly. "You on your way to overview your little puppet Orange?"

"Of course, idiot, I announced that was where I was going from the base, didn't I?" Yellow snarled, leaning back on the airline chair and gazing out of the window watching the clouds roll by. Thankfully there were no annoying flight attendants on this tiny, unmarked plane. Yellow was sure he would have killed a bitch if asked anything at the moment.

"Now is that anyway to talk to your loving husband?" Green feigned a hurt tone which caused Yellow to roll his eyes. "Especially after I've accepted the fact you get your pleasures from elsewhere?"

"Oh, go crawl up Pink's vagina, or whatever it has."

"So, crude!" Green exclaimed, his distorted chuckles grating on Yellow's last nerve. "I'll have you know, Pink is a lovely young lady!"

"Forgive me if I have my doubts sometimes," Yellow replied flatly.

"One wonders how Purple can stand to kiss a mouth so foul," Green retorted.

"Are you going to mock me or help me like you said you would?" Yellow finally seethed. Green's breath hissed in a sigh from the other end.

"Of course I am. A lot of my plan is intertwined in what you have going on. Just do me a favor and pick up with Russia where I left off."

"Yes, love," Yellow agreed sarcastically. "I didn't spend all that money importing over 100 gallons of acid for shits and giggles."

"Oh, that sounds fun! I'm glad I can contribute!" Green exclaimed. Yellow could help but chuckle, shaking his head.

"You know, I feel sorry for poor little Canada, putting what little trust he had in you, you evil, evil little man."

"He even thought I had a soul!" Green exclaimed, stifling his laughter. "Fancy that."

"Ah yes, we are simply the walking dead," Yellow sighed, leaning back in his chair and allowing the weight of the statement to sink in. Perhaps they were what the misguided Canada claimed they were: dead nations walking. Yellow found he kind of liked the idea. There was no doubt in his mind that Black planned to kill them when they were the last standing, but surprisingly he found he didn't care.

People were disgusting creatures. Breading like rabbits and killing one another like animals, the fact they claimed to be a higher being made in God's image disgusted him. He loved watching capitals burn, loved watching the people panic and turn into scared, mindless cattle while making sickening sweet love to Purple, laughing in his head about how he could fuck someone upon the ruins of humans' ignorant hopes and dreams.

"Yellow, all joking aside, if you really plan on pursuing this feud with Blue, I have to say watch your back. You may think you're the manipulation master, but he played Canada like a fiddle then snapped his strings," Green warned.

"That's only because we all helped him out, even Black."

"Regardless, if I know America, and I do, he will have this planned from start to finish. He's also Black's favorite, in case you didn't notice."

"Well, that's about to change, because not only am I cleaning up your mess with Russia, I plan on ending the lives of four pesky nations, three of them being the Big Three." Green still didn't seem impressed.

"I've known America for centuries and he always has to have the last word." Yellow scoffed.

"What's he going to do, turn into a giant robot and breathe fire at me?" There was no laugh. Green's distorted voice was completely serious.

"I have a feeling this is one you can't win. Even if you do kill America, it will probably be because he or Black wanted you to."

"Enough!" Yellow snarled, his patience finally wearing thin. "Just get to the spot I told you to be and do exactly what I say." Green let out another depressing sigh.

"Sure thing, and I'll arrange for your funeral while I'm at it."

* * *

Russia awoke slowly, his bleary eyes stinging against the light of the hospital ceiling. He sighed as he looked at the analog clock hanging on the far end of his room and found he'd been asleep for over two hours. One would think being in a coma for six months would fill one's quota for sleep, he thought bitterly. Ukraine had been called in by her boss just before Russia was put through his physical therapy but promised to return for their promised walk as quickly as she could, knowing his therapy was priority. Even though he was on the mend thanks to China's boss, it was still agonizingly difficult to regain his former strength.

Now, the old man that the nurses had moved into the room temporarily was still snoring like a motorboat, leaving Russia to grumble sourly under his breath, as he attempted to shift his aching legs.

"Hey there, I was hoping you'd wake up."

Russia startled and shot up, his breath catching in his throat as he spotted America sitting not too far away in Belarus's abandoned plastic chair. Russia had finally convinced her to go home, despite her great reluctance to do so. He wondered briefly if she had sat in the same place for the whole six months he was out.

"A-America?" he questioned, not quite believing his eyes. Last they had spoken hadn't ended on good terms, Russia horrified that America was allowing his boss to beat the shit out of him daily and not doing a dammed thing about it. Although he and America were close long ago, he was still the last person Russia expected to see at his bedside. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't a guy make sure his friend is alright? Shit's hit the fan, but at least we have one sunflower growing out of it." Russia wasn't sure he liked that description. Something wasn't right with America, that much was obvious. He looked awful, his blue eyes hollow and rimmed with dark circles that were almost bruise-like. Still, America was smiling, but there was no feeling behind it, and his eyes…

Russia knew that light flickering behind them. He'd seen it in the mirror plenty of times. Something wasn't right here, and Russia immediately grew wary. There was no doubt in his mind America could overpower him at this stage in his recovery and he looked around the room for a possible weapon should the other nation's intentions not be as pure as he claimed.

There was the nurse button, a phone, and an IV pole to keep him hydrated and nourished as his body wasn't used to taking in solid food quite yet. Out of all these objects, Russia figured the nurse call button would be his best bet and quickly looked America dead in the face. Although he wanted the true answer to why America was in his room, he didn't want to push a confrontation. The air reeked with wrongness, and deep in his gut he knew he was cornered.

Russia trusted his instincts, as they had never led him wrong before, and although a part of himself was successfully killed, enough of him survived to see that the America he knew was not the America looking back at him now.

"I heard about your brother from Ukraine, I'm sorry for your loss." Russia didn't want to admit that he had completely forgotten the said nation's name. For a moment, something that wasn't dangerous dawned on America's face. Upon mentioning his brother, the old America surfaced and looked as if he wanted nothing more than to break down and sob, but it was only for a fraction of a second. His face was once again masked with false friendliness Russia didn't trust.

Something was about to snap. There was a tension in the air Russia hadn't felt since the Cold War.

"I miss Canada more than I can say, but I have a feeling I won't be far behind him," America said lowly, his smile fading as he stood and walked to the window on the other side of the room. Sunlight streaked in from between the blinds as America lifted his fingers to run them over the edges.

"You think you're being targeted?" Russia questioned. He frowned as the thought hit him. It would make sense. Currently he, China, and America were the three strongest nations in the world. With them out of the way, the killers would pick off the rest like a pack of sharks swimming through a school of minnows.

"I don't think, I know. Seems the bastards are more like apes than they realize." America didn't look at him, and Russia felt a sense of panic flutter in the pit of his stomach. The way the light reflected off of America's glasses hid his eyes, rendering him unreadable. "I'm going to die, Russia, we all are." It wasn't like America to give up, and Russia knew that this statement wasn't a forfeit, but quite the opposite. "First, Lithuania, then Germany, then Ukraine, then I'll be killed, and finally China will be picked off." Russia felt his eyes widen and his heart begin to race, causing his heart monitor to beep erratically. Lithuania, Ukraine and China were in danger?

"How do you know all this?" Russia demanded. "Where did you get this information?" America didn't respond, merely continued looking out the window, his head turned slightly away. "America, you need to tell me! Tell the others! How do you know this? Did your brother tell you before he died?"

"Canada didn't know shit!" America snarled, his fist slamming against the windowpanes and causing the blinds to clip together in protest. Russia didn't so much as flinch, his eyes growing cold and hard.

"Then how do you know? Or does that have something to do with why you're here?" Russia figured, every muscle in his body tense. After another stretched silence, Russia decided to switch tactics. Yelling and demanding were only steps backwards when asking something of the younger country. An emotional appeal would work best and he spoke carefully again. "You were my dearest friend once, Alfred. Is there something you need to tell me?" America gave a bitter bark of laughter, but still didn't turn around.

"You know, I've always had the world on a string. I told it to jump, it asked how high, but not you, never you. You were my friend, my equal. You were the best friend a guy could have. I was so happy when our relationship improved and when you finally woke up," America finished, reaching up to rub his eyes.

"Why are you referring to me in past tense?" Russia asked warily. "America, what's going on? How do you know who's going to die next?" Finally, America turned, his eyes cold and his smile one of a porcelain doll: fake, painted on, and horribly insane.

"Because Canada wasn't the true killer." Before Russia could move, America was upon him, a damp cloth pressed roughly over his nose and mouth, blocking his air supply. "Canada was just the real killer's pawn who did whatever I wanted!" Russia tried to squirm away, but his muscles were far too weak. He pushed at America's chest, only to have the younger nation press down harder with the cloth. Russia's nose burned with pain at the pressure, and his lips were crushed against his teeth.

He tried twisting his head away, but America was too strong, his legs straddling either side of the bed-ridden nation. "I am Blue," America snarled, his eyes narrowed and his teeth bared. "Yellow is after you and your sisters, I heard it from Black himself, so I have to kill you, because what that sick fuck has planned pales in comparison to what you're feeling now."

Russia's lungs were beginning to burn with the first signs of oxygen deprivation and his hands began to frantically claw at America's wrists. He tried to bring his knees up, but found he only had the strength to lift them only a few centimeters. America's expression was stony and void of any humanity, and Russia knew he didn't plan on letting up until the last of his life was squeezed out.

"I'm a rotten thing Russia, just like you. I played on my brother's loneliness and fear and," he paused, his stare maniacal and his grin twitching as if it were being jolted by separate currents of electricity, "and I hated every minute of it, but I watched him kill everyone I wanted and I need to stop this. The time to bring Black down is running out. I love Japan, you see? I don't know how it happened it just did, and I need to make sure he doesn't end up on the other killers' menu. So I need to bring that bastard Yellow down a few pegs and I don't need you to be played with like you're a toy. If you die, I want you to die fighting like you are now."

Russia's vision was getting hazy as he reached out a hand to press the nurse call button, only to have nothing happen. America's frigid eyes followed Russia's finger and he let out a dry laugh.

"Come on, you don't think I'm that stupid, do you?" he questioned harshly, seemingly pressing harder. Russia began to panic as he realized America had sabotaged his only way to call for help. His eyes grew wide as he searched in vain for any mercy in America's eyes, any hint of his former best friend who he still loved deeply. There was none. There was nothing but a ravaged killer on top of him, fueled by a twisted sense of right and undoubtedly grief.

"What in bloody hell is going on here?" Immediately the pressure of America's weight was lifted and Russia took a deep breath, gasping in near agony. He coughed, his lungs still burning. He knew something hadn't been right, but he hadn't expected this.

Russia weakly turned his head, eyes watering as he caught sight of England in the door way, his expression furious. Still coughing and taking deep breaths to calm himself, he was shocked to hear America give a low, feral growl.

"You're a bastard," the younger nation hissed. Russia weakly sat up, his entire frame trembling. America's body language had turned defensive and he was backing away from Russia's bed like a dog defending its territory. England's expression didn't change.

"And you're a damned sadist!" he spat. His thick brows were furrowed deeply as he took a threatening step forward. America recoiled back to the window, his teeth bared in a horrible sneer. "You may have Japan eating out of the palm of your hands, but I know what you are! Get out of here! Don't think you'll get away with this!" Russia looked from England to America, not sure what exactly he was witnessing. America admitted he was a killer, but then something in Russia couldn't believe it. After what Ukraine and Belarus told him, it sounded like the young nation had gone through quite the ordeal at the hands of his younger brother…whatever his name was.

America's eyes went void for a brief moment, before alighting again with a kind of fury Russia knew all too well and his mouth stretched into a deranged, non-human grin.

"You and the rest of the world are idiots," he chuckled darkly. "I will always hold the strings, Iggy. He taught me how." Russia wanted to ask who this 'He' was, but was still catching his breath.

"I always knew you'd end up like this," England retorted. "I thought I could save you, but it seems the tainted blood from your mother runs deeper than I could ever go."

"Oh? You want to talk about mothers?" America asked cruelly his demented grin turning into a smug smirk. Russia noticed the way England's fists clenched, the knuckles turning white. America was picking at a nerve. "What ever happened to yours, England? Whatever happened to Bridget?"

"Shut up," England snarled, his expression on the verge of becoming infuriated. He was holding his temper in, Russia knew, but it was starting to pour over. America's grin grew even more, which only put England even more on edge. "You and that brother of yours…I should have killed you while I had the chance, while I had that damn gun pointed right at your face during your ridiculous war for independence!"

"Should of, could of, would of," America replied frostily. "You were weak, old man." England's fists shook, but he didn't throw a punch much to Russia's surprise.

"Leave Russia alone and go back to sucking the life out of Japan." America laughed lowly again and reached out behind himself, never turning around, and slid the window open before stepping onto the sill. In that moment, he reminded Russia of a hunched gargoyle, his hair hanging down around those soulless blue eyes. How could he not have seen it before?

When Reynolds had been doing his dirty work, Russia had seen terror and madness blooming, but he didn't expect America would be rendered this thing, this horrible, hulking monster. Russia had known true madness, and taking in the sight of America nearly silhouetted in the slowly darkening sky made him feel as if something cold were being thrust through his heart.

What in God's name happened while he was out? What fucking happened? Why was America still running free if he acted like this? Ukraine told him about Japan's assassination of Reynolds and how afterwards America's frightening behavior had gotten worse instead of better. However, his elder sister had led him to believe that 'frightening behavior' meant America was mopey, crying, and simply in the midst of grieving. Russia knew this wasn't grieving, not in itself at least. As he continued to stare into those impossibly blue eyes, he was looking at the familiar face of true insanity.

"I will always defeat you in the end," America said through his leering grin. It made even Russia's blood run cold. He slowly turned his head to look at England and found the furious expression hadn't faded.

"Get out, and never show your face in here again!" England snarled. America's smile faded, his eyes narrowing. He let one leg dangle out the window, the wind from the outside making his hair brush over his forehead. He and England continued to stare each other down, the exhausted lines under America's eyes making him appear older, yet somehow more frightening. Finally, America's downturned lips parted and he uttered a single promise.

"I will always win." With that, America disappeared over the edge, silently, as if he had never been there.

England stormed over and slid it shut with a bang, letting out an angered breath.

"What the _fuck_ was that, England?" Russia shouted after the other nation had locked the panel with a click.

"America has lost his dammed mind, that's what it was," England snapped, his exhaustion finally overtaking his anger. "Japan is so enchanted by the bloody weasel he's got everyone thinking America is suffering from post-traumatic stress."

"He just tried to kill me!" Russia exclaimed. "We've got to tell someone!"

"No one will believe what America truly is," England growled. Russia felt his eyes twitch in irritation.

"How could they not?"

"America played us all like fools." Russia waited for more of an explanation, but it never came.

"Go on. I want to hear this. My sister told me Canada ended up being a killer and that his death made America unstable. Clearly though this is not the case." England gave a sigh and ran a hand through his hair before taking a seat in America's abandoned chair.

"Right after Canada died and America and Japan were released from the hospital, I moved in with them to help take care of America. However, much like with you he attacked me in one of his fits. It was there he…" England paused to swallow roughly, "it was here he told me what he really was. He's the blue killer. Canada was a sock puppet." If England had told him before this, Russia would have been hesitant to believe him, but it was so clear.

"So, Canada wasn't the killer?" Russia figured.

"Not the original one at least," England answered. "After Canada died, America was let off his leash, so to speak. He can now show how disturbed he truly is and everyone thinks it's grief craziness."

"That's strangely intelligent of him," Russia observed. "I know he's not as stupid as he acts, but he certainly isn't this good at thinking ahead." England nodded. "But that doesn't explain why no one would believe us about this."

"Japan has the world convinced America is suffering from post-traumatic stress," England explained. "And after what he's apparently 'been through' no one will believe he planned it all, nor will they believe that how he's acting now is his true nature. Plus he has Japan, Italy, Prussia and Germany supporting him as they witnessed Canada trying to kill him."

"Indeed we find ourselves in a tight position, but there's one aspect I'm not sure you're aware of." His green eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. Russia knew it as a nervous gesture and waited. "No matter what, America can't get away with trying to kill someone."

"Russia, I'm not trying to be rude, believe me, but at this point no one gives two flying fucks about you. All America has to do is shed a tear and give a bullshit explanation of how he was scared and confused and Japan will come swooping into the rescue." Russia felt frustration rise.

"That doesn't make sense. Regardless if the world cares about me or not, the fact America attacked me should be a clear indicator that he's a killer!" England let out a miserable chuckle then sighed bitterly.

"There's one thing you should know," he began darkly, a strained and humorless smile on his lips. "They have a sort of hierarchy," he paused, his eyes staring blankly at the window America had just escaped out of. "We've found they work under one nation's control, the one the call Black. As of yet, America has not killed a single person, but it's clear he's being told to do _something_." England growled in frustration and roughly kicked the wall. "Dammit! I…" he trailed off, his shoulders shaking, "I barely recognize him! I knew something was wrong, but when Japan revealed what Reynolds was doing I thought…I thought he'd get better."

Russia looked down at his hands, his chest hurting as he thought back on how it used to be, when America would tell him everything, when they promised to be friends forever during the civil war. Then there was Canada, America's twin. Russia admittedly hadn't known him well other than he was fierce during their hockey games.

"Are you sure there's no way to inform everyone?"

"Not unless you want to do battle with Japan," England spat venomously. "Idiot is convinced America is the victim of Canada's master plan. If he would just open his eyes, he'd realize America is now the owner of the entire Western Hemisphere." Russia's eyes widened in shock.

"W-What? H-How?"

"During Canada's little reign of terror, America had Canada dress as him and start killing nations in Central and South America, starting with the nations that hated America. Those that survived pledged allegiance to Canada hoping for his protection. However, since Canada is dead, America took control and….well, the rest is rather self-explanatory, don't you think?" It was and it was genius, and so not America Russia could smell the stench of this 'Black' all over it. However, now wasn't the time to dwell on that, it was what America said just before attacking.

"He claimed to know who was going to be killed next." England looked genuinely shocked, his thick eyebrows raising. "He said Ukraine and China were on the list."

"Wouldn't surprise me," England sighed. There was another wave of silence, and again Russia felt something in the air, something that wasn't right. There was more going on here than he was able to see. He knew he needed to speak with Italy, Germany and Japan to be filled in completely, but just when Russia opened his mouth to ask where he could contact them, England spoke, pushing himself off the wall. "Look, I better go. I need to find out where America went before he hurts someone."

"Alright…" Russia replied, feeling his suspicion rise. England slowly walked towards the door then stopped and turned, giving a friendly, yet awkward smile. Somehow it unnerved him more than America's behavior had.

"Have fun on your walk." Then he turned and walked out again, leaving Russia with a feeling similar to falling. Looking down, Russia let his fingers curl into fists. Something was wrong here, something very wrong. How did England know?

* * *

"Russia-chan, what's wrong?" Russia heard Ukraine ask worriedly. He turned from where he was sitting in his wheelchair to give her his fake half smile.

"Nothing, sis, really," Russia replied, not wanting to worry his sister any more than she already was. If it were Belarus, he'd have not worried about telling her exactly what had happened with America, knowing her mind was sharp and her emotions locked away. Belarus had the ability to see things practically and although she scared the hell out of him on a good day, having someone to share his recent experience with would have been a welcome change.

For now though he had to keep it to himself. Ukraine was definitely not the person to share his concerns with, nor was it wise to warn her of her potential death. She was far too frail emotionally to take things like this without damage, and he couldn't scare her that, not after all he had let happen to her.

Holodomor still ran deep between them, and Russia felt his fingernails dig into his palms as he remembered the first reports of the manmade famine, and how Ukraine looked when he was finally allowed to see her again.

The image of her being nothing but skin hanging off of bones as she curled into herself to ease the hunger pain was burned into his mind like a hot cattle brand. Although he and the rest of the USSR had also suffered, Ukraine had taken the brunt. In some sick way, her people had reminded him of lollipops, with their large heads and stick bodies, their mouths green from trying to survive off of grass.

Ukraine had merely looked at him with hollow eyes that held barely a hint of recognition. He had held her, his eyes burning as he felt the sharpness of her bones through her clothes. He had let it happen to her when he was supposed to be taking care of her, just as she took care of him and no amount of time or apologies could fix it.

"Russia-chan, you know it makes me sad to see you have such a sour face," Ukraine said, causing Russia's unpleasant thoughts screech to a halt.

"I'm sorry," he replied without even thinking about it. It seemed every other thing that came out of his mouth when speaking to her since that confrontation in his office with China was an apology. Ukraine gave a soft laugh and patted his head affectionately.

"Oh, Russia, there's nothing to apologize for. I'm just happy to get you out of that awful hospital room." Russia gave her another smile. They walked along in companionable silence for a while, watching the cars and people rush by.

China really was beautiful. It was just a shame he couldn't enjoy it with all that was happening. Nations with the power to wipe out others in a single night was something he had never dealt with before. Still, he was an old country who had to fight tooth and nail for everything he had, and Russia knew if he was going to survive, he was going to have to get informed. The sooner he could walk on his own the better, for he knew the killers wouldn't allow his newly formed government to stay in pace for long.

He had to succeed in where he had failed before, protecting his family and the person he loved. Something told him there was little hope for China, but the child in him that miraculously survived had to believe there was some way for the Asian nation to recover. Although, it hurt to think that he caused China a great deal of mental agony. The last thing he remembered was China trying to tell him something, something important, and then falling asleep.

Ukraine was the one to break the silence again, only this time with an odd question. "I know this may sound strange, but have you regained your immortality yet?" Russia blinked in surprise and stiffened. Suddenly the cold air forced its way into his lungs and that feeling of something not being right overcame him.

"I…I'm not sure," he admitted warily, turning in his chair again too study his sister's face. She was smiling gently at him, just as she always did with a sheen of tears making her eyes constantly moist. Still, he noticed her knuckles were white with how hard she gripped the handlebars as she pushed him along.

Russia looked towards the front and took in his surroundings. There were far less people around and the buildings all loomed over them like the teeth of a tomb.

"Katyusha, where are we going?" Russia asked, his heart beginning to beat a little faster. He really hoped it wouldn't fall out. That was the last thing he needed.

"Don't worry about that, Vanechka, you'll see." Russia didn't like this. He didn't like this one bit. First America tried to kill him and then England showed up just in the nick of time? This didn't add up. For once he wished Belarus was here. Fear was not new to him and he was feeling it now.

"Katyusha, I want to go back to the hospital," he said, keeping his voice even. The wheelchair kept traveling forward and Russia had half a mind to bring his hands down and stop it.

"Ivan, don't be silly! This is important," Ukraine insisted, her voice still sweet and calm. It wasn't right. There was something lurking beneath the deceptive innocence of this outing. As Ukraine walked on and pushed him into an abandoned building, panic was threatening to gain control of Russia's mind. He had to keep a clear head. Perhaps Katyusha really just wanted to show him something.

However, all rational thought was cut off as the wheelchair was tipped forward, and he was left sprawled on the ground. The concrete was cold on the palms of his hand as he hurriedly pushed himself up on his elbows and forcibly turning himself around to stare at his sister in disbelief.

"Katyusha?" he questioned warily, already scooting back on his hands as she stared down at him. She was no longer smiling and her kindly demeanor had shifted into something hostile and powerful. Her eyes were devoid of the usual tears and her mouth was turned downwards. Before her Russia's wheelchair lay on its side, one wheel still turning. She took one step forward, daintily sidestepping the fallen chair so she stood over her brother. "S-Sis, w-what are you doing?" he asked, although he already knew the answer. It was more of a way to stall as he continued to scoot away from her on his behind, forcing his jelly-like legs to work and gaining minimal success.

He looked around, his eyes wide as they took in their surroundings. It was an old warehouse, one that was ancient and haunted-looking. Large wooden crates, broken and likely infested with rats, stood ominously in the corner, their gaping maws silently screaming for blood. "S-Sis, what are you doing?" Russia repeated, the icy concrete biting into his flesh like a vicious dog.

Ukraine still didn't answer as she continued to watch her brother struggle to get away, not an ounce of emotion on her face. His sister was gone, she was giving him that hollow look he knew too well, only this time he saw the rage and hatred burning within them.

"You have failed to regain your sanity, Russia," she finally murmured coldly, her breath rising from her mouth in a misty cloud. I've watched you try for years, and you have failed." That voice couldn't belong to her, not to his warm, motherly sister, the one who had taught him about sunflowers and held him when he was scared. "You've let us all suffer."

"Katyusha, stop this! I want to go back to the hospital!" he demanded, trying to keep his voice from quivering. Never in his life had he feared his sister, but now all he wanted was to get away from her. He had to think. He had to find a way out of this or at least try to talk some sense into her.

"You don't get what you want. Not anymore," Ukraine replied icily, walking away into the shadows for a moment. He heard her scarping around, searching for something and he rolled over on his stomach, attempting to crawl away army style, gritting his teeth and dragging his legs behind him like a crippled dog.

"Sis, what is wrong with you?" he asked, nearly on the verge of wailing. He wouldn't submit himself to such things just yet, not when there was a chance at reconciliation. He continued to crawl, not sure where he was going or how he was going to get out, but knowing he needed to get away somehow. From the shadows, Ukraine emerged. Russia felt his heart skip a beat when he saw what she was dragging behind her.

It was a rusty water pipe.

She dragged the end of it against the concrete, leaving a brown trail behind as she circled in front of her downed brother. Her eyes narrowed as Russia came face-to-face with her boots before looking up into her expressionless face.

"You can't save them," she whispered. "Nor can you save me. You've ruined us all, me, Belarus, Lithuania, Poland, Latvia, Estonia, America…"

She circled again, tapping the water pipe as she went.

_Tap, tap, tap. _

The irony of this situation was so cruel Russia almost laughed out of sheer terror. He was helpless, something he had never been before, and now he was being mocked.

_Tap, tap, tap. _

The memories of China standing in his office as Russia did the same came back in a painful flood of guilt. She was right. She was absolutely right and he was powerless to do anything about it. The tapping of the pipe sounded in time with the beating of his heart, painful and loud.

"Insanity and guilt are the two things keeping you from recovering your former self." Russia felt as if he were going to throw up. This couldn't be Katyusha. This couldn't be his crybaby sister who always cried at the simplest of things. "You were a contributing factor in all this, Ivan. Nations are being killed partly because of what you've done." Russia's hands balled into painful fists.

"No," he growled.

"Yes," Katyusha answered. "You let us all go hungry."

That image of Katyusha slumped over and clutching her empty stomach as she stared at him with dead eyes appeared again.

"No."

"You hurt Lithuania because of your guilt and self-hatred."

The scars on Lithuania's back flashed before his eyes: red welts and red crosshairs as tears streamed down the other nation's face. He'd done it because he missed the very person bringing it up now, missed her and wanted her guidance.

"Enough."

"You and Germany brutalized Poland during World War II."

Poland's limp, bloody body emerged from the recesses of his unwanted memories.

"Stop it!" It was meant to be a command but it came out as a plea.

"You toyed with America's own insanity as well as your own during the Cold War."

America, his friend, cleaning guns and terrifying his own people filled Russia's head. Then it all came, one after the other in a swarming mass of misery, playing like some demented slide show. Russia regretted all of it, but he couldn't apologize. The guilt was there though, reaching for him, constricting his throat and causing a lump to rise. It was too much.

"You could have stopped it all," Ukraine reminded. "You could have saved us all from this."

"STOP!" Russia finally yelled. He couldn't take it. The memories were too much.

"W-Who are you?" he asked weakly, not sure what else to say. He was scared, and he felt violated. His logical thoughts were gone now as he stared up at the one person he loved more than anything in the world glare back heartlessly. "You can't be Katyusha. You can't be my sister." Russia continued to stare into the eyes of the woman towering over him as something not akin to terror and maybe grief flicker in her blue depths.

"Yellow has made me into your guilt," she answered, raising the pipe. "Pass and go on to face your insanity, and maybe you can save us."

With that, she brought the pipe down.

* * *

Who do you think is Russia's insanity?

Liet

Belarus

America

Poland

Green,

Zwolf (too lazy to make the umlaut)

Thank you for reading everybody! We heart you guys! And in case anyone is interested, Lucky and I wrote something original! Woot! Linkage is on our profile. Again, sorry this took so long, but we'll get better! you again so much for the success of this story as well as that other one I don't really remember. For the next chapter you must all troll Lucky, because this is an overworked Angel signing out to attend to real life.

Shout Outs,

**Numanom, Italiangurlinamessedupworld, Kirby1234, Rilili, RatedPen, hojas, ToriSveIce469, phireye, miiki, Lady Fukou, Icemask12, Rapier-of-Red, Ky- Kuroi mizu no geadian, Cold War Takeover, ChaoticLight, Dontmezwitme, -the dark ninja NEKO-, Mi-Ola, xKnight-of-Yorux, Croutonic Sarcasm, Crow, OHAI, AVeryNiceReviewer, CAPS LOCK, Kibacoe, Ill give flowers-for your life, Mari, Aladara, marble-fire, winterdarknessXD, Skimx, 9aza, Naomi Hansen, kabutoishot, SadisticSunflower, CashewLuu, Wind In Your Whiskers, Goddess of Scandinavia, Neelu, romances-decay, NeSie, the-destiny-of-one, TeaAndScones, hexazebra, liian risera, xYukii, the-cake-is-a-LIE, Starlight Amethyst, FaberCastell, Foot, Victoria Alatamir Wan, Kirou, AikoujOi, RingmasterLady, Naomi Hansen, Nom-Kitty, LvNa-cHaN, Cherri, rae1112, , Anonymous, LupinandHarry, CanadianCookie, The Metal Cervidae, WhimsicalShmoo, SoDesuKa, Canadino, spocketlaine, EBIL DUSTBUNNY OF DOOOOM, Tinkeroftime, ArixaBell, serialkillersunflowers, Reevolver, dellums, AntonioAndRomano4Ever, Roschian-Lorelei, owl, Madam Imagine, usagi-ninja, marmoki, ninjafox369, maikyaera, KellyIouri, kyashiidreams, Play The Overture, Yume Ninja, Durarara-Love, and...**

**italiachick13,**


	41. The Rack

Seven Little Killers: n. the most irritating fanfic ever, which has suffered one of the most severe cases of writer's block in the course of history.

* * *

_Drip...drip...  
_  
"Oh for _God's _sake Purple! Will you just twist the stupid wrench the other way? I'm not gonna be able to murder properly if we've got a motherfucking leak in the pipes!"

"Language, sweet thing. I think that might be why Yellow ditched us," a singsong voice replied. "We can't help it if the pipes are leaking. We'll just have to deal with it."

"We wouldn't have to deal with it if you just turn that nut thing like they always do in movies! It always fixes the problem! Just take the wrench and—no, _nononono_! What the hell are you doing? Don't _pull_! Turn it! Turn it! Clockwise!"

_Drip...drip...  
_  
"Clockwise?"

"Well yes— oh for the love of God! Just turn it to the right! Towards...towards the computer! In my direction!"

"Oh, isn't that to the right?"

"Yes, that's what I just said!"

_Drip...drip..._

Netherlands slowly shook his head. A deep throbbing pain between his eyes made it feel as if his brain was trying to pound out of his skull. The two chattering voices echoing loudly in what sounded like a large room with damn good acoustics wasn't helping. He wanted to tell them to shut the hell up, but his tongue felt too large in his mouth—too sandpaper-y and dry. Another loud, high-pitched shriek of indignation came echoing through the room, making him wince as the sound dug mercilessly into his into his tender inner ear.

"Oh good _God_, Purple!"

"Oh dear. Is the pipe supposed to break apart like that?"

"No! You were supposed to fix it, not wreck it more!"

"I thought I was just supposed to stop the dripping."

Netherlands wanted to tell them to shut up, but all he managed was a weak, "Ahh..." before a stabbing pain blossomed in his throat from lack of use and hydration. He gave a slightly satisfied sigh when the loud echoing voices died down finally, his mind finally clearing from the racket. A few more precious moments passed in silence, but it was soon broken by a quick pattering of footsteps somewhere within the wall.

Then the loud clack of a heavy metal door opening caused every muscle in his body to stiffen involuntarily. Netherlands fought to open his heavy lids and blinked, trying to get a sense of his bearings and ignoring the harsh pounding in his head.

"Rise and shine, Holly!"

The shrill voice was enough to make Holland's hair stand up on the back of his neck. The footsteps danced (no, literally, danced) over to where he was. The tall nation, now finally attentive enough to take notice of his surroundings, noticed that he was rendered completely immobile.

His chafed limbs were cuffed to the wall behind him and his neck was ensnared in another one, the iron already warmed by the amount of time that he had probably spent in it. The trapped nation blinked a few more times to clear the fuzz from the corner of his vision and noticed the metal walls of the room.

A dim light skirted across them like spiders. In front of him sat a small, square table, where an array of knives rested, each with its own unique length or curve. A small alarm began blaring in the corner of his mind, telling him that something was very, very wrong. He retraced his memory back the two annoying voices. They called each other colors…

His mind screeched to a stop.

They…were killers.

He looked to the side and saw a petite figure leaning on the balls of her feet. She was clad in all black with long, hot pink hair draping over her shoulders. An ornate mask that matched her hair settled snugly on her face.

Netherlands's eyes widened as he registered his helpless position. His mouth became even dryer. "You're…You're the Seven."

The figure across from him tilted her head curiously, as if hearing that from him had been news to her. A giggle bubbled from behind her lips as she saw the fear and realization spread across his face. "Oh, well then I suppose I am!" She cheerfully held out a hand, chirping out, "Nice to meet you! My name is…" She paused coyly and giggled again. "Heh, sorry, but I really can't tell you that now, can I?" The killer laughed as if it was a joke. It was a sick joke. Holland felt the nonexistent contents of stomach threaten to come up the wrong side and swallowed back the gagging. "You can call me Pink, Luuk!"

The trapped nation forced himself not to blanch at the way his human name sounded in the killer's distorted voice. "Okay then, Pink," Netherlands finally managed to rasp out after a few tries of hiding his revulsion. How could a sick murderer still be so cheerful? He wanted nothing more than to lunge for one of the more dangerous looking knives, attack Pink with it, and tear off the hideous mask. Though, if he thought about it a little more, it was more than obvious who they were planning on using those on. He took a deep breath, trying to hide the beginning of hyperventilation and forced his voice to come out even. "Will you please let me out of here?"

Pink stared at him blankly, her eyes suddenly unreadable. She stopped her rocking back and forth on her feet and settled her hands on her waist. "Well! I've got to say that you're one of the first people that asked nicely if we can let you out!" She chuckled lightly for a few moments before spinning around and beginning to pace back and forth across the room. Netherlands, even in his state, noticed her gaze visibly darkening, and in the next moment, she was leaning right up against him, her eyes dangerously narrowed, hissing. "_It's disgusting_. _Know your place before I force you into it_."

"Calm, Pinkie-babe, I don't think you want to kill Luuk now," a voice chided from some unseen place in the room. Holland's head snapped around quickly and saw nothing, suspecting that it was a speaker in the wall. "_Especially_ when Yellow and I have already planned something so fun for him." Pink leaned away and brightened considerably, turning up to what must have been a camera hidden somewhere within the wall.

"Really? I didn't know you helped out with this one! I thought it was all Yellow!"

The voice chuckled. "Nope. I've got some of my marks set in those of Yellow's elaborately planned murders. The poor thing's so crazy, sometimes I wonder if he was born with any humanity at all."

Pink scoffed quietly before muttering something quietly under her breath. Holland felt his breathing hitch when he realized that the other two killers were talking about a comrade. Did they like him, then, or did they not? He couldn't tell if being called 'inhumane' in their little group of murderers was an insult or a high praise.

"Yellow's one sick fuck." Netherlands managed to decipher those words from Pink's almost unintelligible mumbles, and his face hardened as the message sunk in. If a 'sick fuck' planned out what he was about to go through…

The voice from the speaker sounded again, breaking the captive nation from his train of thought. "Ah, sorry, Netherlands. I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I?"

"Yup!" the small killer chirped immediately, the damper on her mood from talking about Yellow lifting quickly.

"Well, you can call me Purple, Netherlands," the voice said grandly. "You shouldn't be so tense, really. You're like one of those timid little rabbits that you find shivering in the forest. It's not like we'd kill you _too_ terribly." Netherlands stiffened when he heard the light amusement tinting Purple's voice. "Ah…well at least not if you behave well enough and play by the rules, I suppose. But that wouldn't be any fun…hmm, maybe you'll have to shake it up so you don't have to go through too much pain. And even then, Pink might have to aim well…"

Pink broke into happy pearls of laughter at Purple's words, clapping her hands excitedly as if she was a small child, the sound echoing eerily long after she stopped.

"Meanwhile, it seems like this game is about to start in earnest. I think the other player is waking up, Pinkie."

The petite killer gasped with excitement and then quickly left Netherlands's side, skipping over to a stretch of wall just across from where he was tied. Netherlands felt his stomach drop when a small light bulb flickered to life on the opposite side, revealing a very familiar blonde girl. Her head hung limply in front of her chest and her limbs were chained to the wall just as his were. _No_…he whispered in dread…_anyone but her_.

"B-Belgium."

Until this point, Netherlands felt little fear, but the second he saw his sister, everything changed. The stakes were higher, and impending death seemed so real. The speed of his heart quickened and he felt perspiration beading on his forehead. His breathing grew shallow as his mind reeled. Guilt and crippling despair crushed him at once.

Belgium was being dragged into this as well. A protective instinct bubbled up inside him, and his anguish was quickly bled over by a stark rage. His hands clenched into fists as he watched the wretched killer creep closer to his baby sister. He wanted to scream for her to run.

Belgium stirred slightly, moaning as Pink ran her fingers under her chin. "Tickle, tickle, tickle!" the killer giggled. Netherlands wanted to rip off her head and snap her neck with his bare hands. "Wakey, wakey, wakey!"

"Belgium! Belgium!" Netherlands desperately tugged on his bindings until his wrists began to bleed from the friction. As he saw Pink tugging on Belgium's hair, an incomparable rage rose within him, making him see red. "You get the fuck away from her, you monster! Belgium! _Belgium_! I'm going to fucking murder you - don't you _dare_ touch her! If you pull so much as a single hair from her head, I'll rip your hands clean off!"

Pink froze momentarily and turned away from the half-awake Belgium. Netherlands got the strange impression that she was incredulous under her mask.

"What…" the small killer whispered dangerously in her mechanical voice, "What…did you say to me?"

Netherlands clenched his fists tighter. The blood made his palms sticky as they mixed with his sweat. "I. Want. You. To. Get. The. Fucking. Hell. Away. From. My. Sister," he hissed through his teeth.

Panic began to wheedle into his heart just slightly when Pink's eyes widened even more from behind the mask. She stood there stiffly before crossing the room right up to the taller nation, glaring mockingly.

Her eyes were hypnotic like a vile serpent's as she brought her hand across his cheek. The right side of his face slammed into the concrete wall, making him gasp in pain as he felt a few teeth loosen.

"_You ungrateful little bastard_!" Pink screamed, "We decide to be merciful and kill you later so you could see your sister first, and this is how you repay us? By proving yourself a complete nuisance?" She brought her palm back down on Holland's already stinging cheek before pulling her mask up a bit and spitting in his face, the saliva intermingling with his trickling blood. "You worthless son of a bitch!"

Netherlands refused to move or react as she continued to kick him. It was times like these when he felt as if he were Atlas, carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. He'd known it was his responsibility, his role to be the strong one, the unyielding one, last to crack under pressure. He'd do anything to shield his flesh and blood. It went without saying that he'd sacrifice his life without fail for Belgium, if only to make up for all the times he pushed her around.

Belgium was more responsive by now and Holland locked eyes with her, catching sight of her wide-eyed gaze. He suddenly realized that the emotion behind her eyes had changed little from when they first met all those years ago. There stubbornness which always got her in trouble. The glint that had Romano falling head-over-heels for her was still burning like a beacon, and yet there was an innocence and fright only a small child possessed. Even now she clung to it.

An all-consuming wave of regret and overwhelming despair crashed over him. Seeing Belgium in chains made him hurt in a way Pink never could.

_She's here._

He knew that he would do everything in his power to save her, yet a small voice piped up in his head, voicing up his darkest fear.

_Even if I do protect her…will we all die in the end?_

Reality came crashing down like a tidal wave, mercilessly swallowing up any semblance of hope Netherlands had. He could only anguish and lament over the past, which could no longer be changed. His mind began to rush as memories flooded back – he had never taken that good care of her or been there for her when she'd needed him the most. Always on two opposite ends of a wall, facing each other with only hatred reflected in both pairs of eyes, so ironic now. Why, now, the lamentations could no longer stop – He could have done better, he was such a bad big brother, there was no way he could go back and rewrite his past.

He had always wondered why they couldn't be normal siblings, deprived of the most basic necessity of a

relationship – never allowed to laugh or smile or talk together. But of course, the answer was simple.

History just didn't allow for them a happy life.

"Belgium," Netherlands whispered, his voice cracking. She blinked a few times, as if just realizing what predicament she was in. Then she frantically tugged at her cuffs, her blonde hair whipping about as she struggled.

"Netherlands, what're we doing here? Where is…what's…"

Pink turned around, movements robotic. Belgium's mouth fell open when she saw the mask.

"You're…you're a killer! You're one of the seven killers! Did you kidnap me? Why did you take me here?" Her voice bit through the air like frosted steel, demanding, and yet Netherlands heard the fear under her well-crafted mask.

"I see that intelligence doesn't run in the family." Pink's modified voice echoed harshly in the room, making the two prisoners cringe. Gone was the cheerfulness that had her dancing around in mirth - the little petite killer looked lethal.

"Temper, Pinkie," Purple droned lazily. Netherlands had forgotten that he was there. Belgium's head snapped around the room, her eyes trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from. "Oh, my apologies, dear Alice. I forgot to introduce myself to you as well. You can call me Purple. And the spitting ball of fire is known as Pink. Pleasure to meet you." Belgium couldn't even stutter before Purple began again, "Well, it seems like we're ready to begin!"

Pink lowered her head slowly into her hands and took a deep breath. "Okay, okay," she muttered to herself more than anyone else before snapping up again, all of her previous excitement back in full form. "Well then! Let's start! Netherlands, Belgium, if you will please direct your attention towards the beautiful array of sharp, potentially harmful objects we have placed on this table!" Netherlands could only stare at his sister's expression as her green orbs fixated themselves on the knives, her breath hitching in her throat and her eyes widening in fright.

"W-What're you going to do with us?" she asked, shrilly.

Pink bounced her hands happily. "I'm glad you asked, Belgium! As a matter of fact, we're going to play a little game that Yellow and Purple invented! Yay! Round of applause!" She spun in a circle and clapped, the eerie echoing only making Netherlands's stomach drop even further.

"We put in a lot of time and effort, so I'll be grateful if you two put up a show," Purple added seriously, "You wouldn't want to disappoint the audience, right?" There was a small chuckle, a pause. "Pink, tell them what the rules are."

The pink killer stretched her arms out and swayed over to the table of knives. Netherlands could see his sister's eyes dart across the selection and then quickly back up at him, shaking in panic. Netherlands tried to jerk forward when Pink motioned towards Belgium.

"Stop! Don't touch her! Kill me, but don't touch her!"

"Sorry, but that would be so anticlimactic, you know." Pink gave a dismissive sigh and picked up one of the smaller knives. She tossed it into the air, letting it spin a full circle before snatching it again. "Okay! To be honest, Netherlands and Belgium, the rules of this game are extremely simple, and since you two are both very smart countries, I'm sure that you'll pick up immediately!"

The small killer smiled at both nations before beginning. "This is just a sort of yes-no questionnaire, I suppose you can call it! Noble Netherlands over there represents the 'no' answer, and pretty Belgium is the 'yes' answer! Purple will ask you guys questions, and all you have to do is answer them with 'yes' and 'no'! Simple, right?" Pink's eyes darkened, flashing with bloodlust as she lowered her voice and smirked. "Just one more thing, though. If you answer 'no' when it's your turn, our Netherlands over there will get a knife thrown into him." Belgium whimpered audibly. Netherlands's stomach crystalized. "If you answer 'yes', then Belgium gets a hit. If you don't answer with either a 'yes' or a 'no', then you're hit automatically. Simple right?"

"You sick fucks!" Netherlands hollered, his voice snapping. "I'm not playing along with your disgusting games!"

Pink's eyes flashed and she spun instantaneously, the silver knife flying out of her hand and lodging itself deep into Netherlands's shoulder. The tall nation screamed in pain, his muscles contracting to try and escape the agony. His tendons and ligaments were screaming out as a fresh spurt of blood painted his dirty uniform. Belgium began to shriek as well and tug harder at the chain cuffs keeping her against the wall. "Luuk! Luuk! _Arrête_!"

"_Shut up_!" Pink screeched. "Shut up, all of you!" She picked up another knife and brandished it threateningly at Belgium. "Close your fucking mouth, bitch, before I do the same to you!" Belgium stopped screaming but stood there shaking, tears falling from furious eyes. Pink raged on, slamming her hand onto the table, screaming. "You don't like this game? Well too bad you little _fucks _because you're going to like it anyways! You don't have a say! Realize your pathetic positions and just roll over when we tell you to!"

"Pinkie," Purple cut through suddenly, "Pinkie. Stop. Stop now, breathe, calm down and stop chucking knives at them when they haven't even begun to play yet." The small killer stood there in the middle of the gray concrete, trembling with rage but she took a few slow breaths.

"Sorry. My bad." She shook her head, her chest rising up and down. "See? See what happens when I get angry? I don't like getting angry."

Netherlands panted heavily, the sight of the blood bubbling up around the steel making him sick to his stomach. Trying to move his arm was useless – the pain was scorching, and Netherlands detachedly thought that his arm had given out. Like all other nations, he was used to seeing blood, but these first few drops marked what he was sure would be the last moments.

"And now dear Netherlands is hurt. I guess we can count that as his turn, isn't it Belgium's now? Let's see..." Pink purred, slinking over to Belgium's side like a predatory cat. She made a show of appearing as if she were in deep thought. Her index finger tapped curiously at her chin before her eyes snapped back up with a cheerfully maniacal glint. "If Purple there was to rape your brother, he'd like it, wouldn't he?"

Tears sprang to Belgium's eyes in fury and she clamped her mouth shut in utter defiance, refusing to answer the question. The playful look in Pink's eyes began to dim. She raised a hand, as if making to slap Belgium again, but the blonde nation didn't flinch. Pink then reached down and cupper Belgium's jaw gently. "Come on, Belgium, I know you have a voice, _fucking use it, sweetie_..." Pink spat as she roughly grabbed the girl's hair and yanked back, causing Alice is to hiss in sudden pain.

"_Leave. Her. Alone_," Netherlands hissed. Pink closed her eyes slowly, breathing deeply as if trying to calm herself.

"Please don't try and play the hero again, Netherlands dearest, or I might _really _accidentally snap this time and kill you both without hesitation." The killer grabbed Belgium's chin in her fingers as she squeezed painfully at her cheeks. "And that wouldn't be nearly as much fun. Now, Belgium, please answer, or I'm afraid we might have to kill off both of you prematurely...and we don't want that to happen, right?"

Belgium met Pink's eyes bravely, but the tears were still pouring down as she muttered inaudibly, "Yes..." Pink's gleeful tone began to leak back into her happy laughter. She leaned in closer till her left ear was tilted towards Belgium's face. The blonde nation made a weak lunge forward and tried to bite it.

"Sorry, sweetie, what did you say? I couldn't hear you."

Belgium's face burned with shame as she looked across the room at Netherlands, who was staring at her with wide eyes. "Y-Yes," she said, a bit louder this time. Pink grinned.

"I still can't h-"

"Yes!" Belgium finally shrieked, her voice cracking with pitch and emotion. "Yes! Yes! _Please_, Ye-" Belgium's screams abruptly cut off into a gurgle when Pink ripped into her soft gut with a dagger before swiping it out, cutting clothing and white flesh then swinging it back in again, the harsh metal sinking into Belgium's abdomen.

"That was more than one 'yes'! You deserve it, little whore-"

"No!" Netherlands strained forward against his restraints, writing, watching helplessly as Pink tore mercilessly into his sister. Her screams echoed chillingly in the room as she convulsed violently, jerking around as splatters of blood fell onto the ground. "Stop it! She's going to die! Stop it_, stop it_!" Pink gave an extremely audible scoff before dropping the dagger at Belgium's feet with a clatter, leaving Belgium gasping and gagging afterwards.

"You're filthy, pitiable cowards. Both of you. You think…you think you're being brave and all just because you're trying to protect your sibling from being hurt, but you don't know _anything_," the killer whispered. She kept her eyes down as she kept speaking, her voice so soft that Netherlands almost had to lean forward to hear "Fine. I was supposed to skewer you since you _did_ say 'no,' but I'll be altruistic and let it slide. Can't have you dead so early on." To Netherlands's surprise, she sounded bitter and jealous, as if they had something she couldn't obtain. But no sooner than this chink in her armor appeared, her eyes hardened into stone and she laughed, adding, "Well, at least not dead _yet_. What's the next question then, Purple?"

Netherlands had once again forgotten about the other killer. There was the softest shuffling noise from the speakers, and then Purple's filtered voice spoke, obviously amused. "Belgium, how many fingers do humans have?"

Belgium coughed, her eyes flashing as they glared up murderously at Pink. Her face was pale and a sheen of sweat made her hair stick to her face. "Ten," she spat, gritting her teeth. The killer stared at her blankly for a few seconds before breaking into giggles.

"_Wrong_!" she finally sang before spinning in a circle, a flash of silver flying through the air a brief second Belgium shrieked in pain, a long knife sprouting from her right thigh, burrowing deep into her soft flesh – the blade had come through the other side and entirely penetrated her leg.

"Belgium!" Netherlands hollered, one arm reaching out and hands scrabbling the wall as he tried to pull from his chains.

"Answer with 'yes' and 'no' next time, honey!" Pink cackled as if she found the entire situation hilarious. Belgium arched her back, whimpering in pain.

"That wasn't even a yes or no question!" Netherlands bellowed. He threw all of his weight forward, feeling the metal bite harshly into his skin. "Get away from her you bitch! You're filthy! You don't deserve to touch her, I'll take the pain instead! You're fucking sick and pathetic you only want to assert your own power that you'll never achieve-" Netherlands's impassioned speech was cut off as he felt a solid punch to the right side of his face. He grunted with pain as he was slammed back into the wall.

Pink flicked her hair to the side. As she leaned in, Netherlands summoned the last reserves of his energy and spat out the copper tasting liquid, along with it a few teeth, in the killer's face.

The pink killer began to tremble as she reached up, touching the scarlet that was sprayed onto her mask with utter shock. She began to tremble.

The killer stalked towards the restrained nation, snatching up a longer, wicked dagger before glaring up manically at her captive and stabbing it in hilt-deep into Netherlands's bicep. Netherlands opened his mouth with wordless screams, his eyes still focused on Pink's mask.

_It's okay. I'm – I'm oka-_

Pink abruptly changed her grip and then mercilessly raked it down the length of Netherlands's entire arm. Blood spurted out and colored her mask a hideous crimson fuchsia. "_I thought I told you to shut up_!" she screeched, bringing the scarlet knife out and thrusting it back just as violently into his arm. "Don't interfere! I don't care how unfair it is! She got it wrong - she lost! She deserves the punishment!"

Netherlands couldn't contain the pain and yelled out, feeling sick and dizzy as he saw long strips of his crimson muscle falling like apple peels as Pink repeatedly stabbed him. "Stop hurting him!" he faintly heard someone shouting. "I failed, why are you hurting him? He didn't do anything wrong!"

Netherlands gasped when he felt the knife make a final stab before the cruel steel was directed away from his flesh. Pink looked over her shoulder at Belgium, her gaze so crazed that her eyes looked almost misted. "_You're fucking loud_! Shut the fuck up!" The dagger stained bright red with Netherlands's blood was raised above the killer's head, pointed right at Belgium.

"N-No..." Netherlands rasped weakly.

A loud click, and then a taller figure in black strolled into the room, stepping over a disgusting mess of gore. The dark violet mask over his face glittered almost magically in the half-light, and the taller captive felt himself inhale sharply as a blind terror began to fill him.

For some reason, even though this killer looked less manic than his shorter partner, he gave off a frightening aura that had Holland cringing reflexively. Purple looked quietly at the two bound nations before turning his attention to Pink. He easily twisted the bloodstained knife out of her grip before laying down his hand on her shoulder.

"Sit down or something, Pinkie. I can't have you messing up Yellow and my plans like this," he said calmly, pushing the other killer towards the table of knives. "Don't do anything stupid." Pink hesitated before nodding shortly, her movements robotic. Purple looked back up at the two trapped nations with a sheepish grin. "Sorry about her, she's been acting strange lately. Shorter temper. Can't imagine what the problem is. But anyway, shall we carry on with the game, in earnest this time?"

It was then, that Netherlands felt a sensation entirely new in his chest. Like tendrils of a vine, something began to squeeze down mercilessly on his heart, twining around till it encased the organ. An unbearable pressure crushed down and left him gasping and squirming. He couldn't breathe, feel, nor think, only the blinding sensation that rendered him gasping for air like a fish out of the water. The pain he felt when Pink was torturing him was nothing - until suddenly, it felt like his heart burst completely. The blonde couldn't help but screech, jerking back and forth in pain as the unbearable agony began to spread throughout his chest like wildfire. He suddenly felt, with much more conviction than before, that he was going to die. His sister's horrifying screams rose as well, mirroring his own.

"That, Netherlands and Belgium, would be the destruction of your capitals." Netherlands could vaguely make out Purple's voice over the screaming, which he could no longer distinguish was his or his sister's. All the blood in his body seemed to leech out as he spasmed in agony. "Now, it's your turn, Netherlands. Would you die for anyone?"

He couldn't think clearly at all. The world through his eyes was just a senseless blend of indistinguishable colors as the room continued to spin violently. He gave a wretched choke and felt the metallic taste of blood as he coughed it out over his own clothes. The excruciating pain in his left arm had been easily overshadowed by the collapse and destruction of Amsterdam, the terrified screams of his people wracking his brain, echoing over and over in his ears. However, the basic instinct that he had to protect his sister still remained intact. He choked out, "_No_!"

A sound of something whistling through the air, and then a violent pain thrust into and pierced the lining of his stomach. He felt more blood surging up his throat and locked his jaw as it began to pour out from between his clenched teeth as fresh blood poured out. "No!" Belgium shrieked, her eyes half crazed from the destruction of her own capital and of the sight of her brother suffering.

Purple looked up solemnly at her. "Did you just answer 'no' to your question? I didn't know you felt that way about polar bears. Well then. Pink?"

Belgium's eyes widened and she tried to lunge forward as she saw the small killer aiming another knife at her brother when she realized, terrified, what her brother would have to go through again. He was already covered with blood and was paling quickly. His left arm looked so deformed that she couldn't even tell it was a limb anymore. Watching him suffer in pain, knowing that he was doing it for her, Belgium shrieked until her throat was raw. "No!" she wailed desperately. "Stop it! Don't, don't! You'll kill him!"

Pink was obviously trying to keep herself as calm as she could. "You answered, Belgium," she cocked her head to the side. "I don't see why you're complaining." She pulled the knife back and hurled it at Netherlands's chest. A sickening squelch echo in the room as it sank deep into his diaphragm, a cacophony of wet coughs and gasps filling the room.

Netherlands felt a river of blood surging up his windpipe and he let it all spill out, the metallic taste slowly becoming familiar to him. He felt extremely dizzy and numb, as if his senses were shutting down – the destruction of his capital, his physical body was finally taking a toll. His vision was blurry as the ringing in his ears increased tenfold. Death was soon, he knew. Yet –

He would die fighting. Fighting for someone – surely that would redeem him, ever perhaps a little, for all his failures and things he had never done for his little sister? His people were already lost, but this…he could save this. Netherlands's head lolled to the side, out of the corner of his eye, he realized that his hair was turning a rusty color, stained with his own dried blood. He was too tired and watched the fuzzy outline of the knife buried in his chest rise up and down shallowly.

"Do you think God is watching, Netherlands?"

The taste of the blood in his throat was beginning to become familiar.

"No."

"_Luuk_!" Belgium shrieked in agony as she watched the pink killer throw a thick dagger into her brother's chest. "Stop it! Stop it, can't you see he's already dying?" Netherlands's eyes focused weakly on her, the clear blue piercing her soul. The meaning behind the look was clear. _Don't interfere_.

She inhaled sharply and felt her tears drip into her mouth as she began to scream, "_Pourquoi faites-vous ceci_? You fucking monsters! You're not human!"

Purple didn't even spare her a glance. He flipped through a ring of notecards and hummed in approval when he stopped at a certain one. His eyes glanced up at Belgium mockingly. "You're the world's little whore, aren't you?"

"_Yes_! _Yes_!" she cried, her voice rising to a shriek as a knife soared right into where her left lung was. She broke into sobs as the pain continued to escalate at the same time that she felt the last of the people in her capital die off. The last wail of a small toddler resting in her mother's arms intensified in Belgium's head as the girl's beautiful hair caught aflame, and then quickly silenced.

The entire city was smothered with a stifling stillness. Belgium couldn't hold back the desperate cries as she screamed senselessly at the killers in French.

Netherlands's head lifted weakly to watch as his younger sister flailed and shrieked loud enough for the sound to pierce right into the depths of his mind. He was helpless against these killers, and it infuriated him. He hadn't exactly been the best older brother all those years, and the fact that he couldn't protect or save her now made him want death. Collapsed against a wall, pathetically watching as she suffered hell. He coughed again - the room already began to stink of grotesque death. He looked to the side to see the purple killer staring right at him. Netherlands stared right back, defiantly, his gaze unyielding. Neither of them broke eye contact, but Purple was the first one to speak again.

"I will give you a chance to save your sister." Netherlands's heart stopped as even Belgium's screams quieted the longer he stared into Purple's eyes. "All you have to do is answer the next and final question honestly." Belgium overheard, her head snapping up and her screams quieting suddenly, her emerald eyes large and red. "If you answer honestly, we will undo her bindings and let her go. If you don't...then I'm afraid that both of you will die horridly…painful deaths. What do you say?"

"Netherlands, don't do _dare _do anything stupid! Don't trust him! He's a murderer! He'll kill you! I have nothing anyway! My capital is gone! I don't want this, don't do this for my sake –"

Belgium's pleading fell on deaf ears as Netherlands kept staring. He looked past the hard, colored mask and right into Purple's eyes, mesmerized. The beautiful color reflected off the light and looked almost plastic, and yet, he spotted the briefest flash of regret that was there for an ephemeral moment. Purple suddenly seemed a lot less like a mindless murderer and more like a fellow nation that he was actually familiar with. The faintest bells of recognition rang in Netherlands's mind, but he couldn't pinpoint just exactly where he had once seen those clear eyes. Netherlands ran his tongue over his blood-coated lips, ignoring the nauseating taste. "Okay," he whispered. "It's a deal."

Purple looked up and expertly caught a knife that Pink tossed to him. He silently ran his finger across the tip of the back, drawing a drop of his own blood, before turning back to Netherlands, his eyes flickering once more.

"Do you love your sister, Luuk?"

"I-I…"

Netherlands opened his mouth, yet he couldn't vocalize his words. 'No' was what he had obviously planned to answer beforehand, so that the last blow would be dealt at his own cost, but when his eyes snapped back to Belgium, the pained look on her face stopped him. He was going to die, either way – Netherlands had already known that, since his blood was first drawn. He needed to save her…but he knew.

Alice wanted him to answer truthfully.

Yes.

Or no?

Netherlands took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, feeling them moisten with tears. At an impasse, he couldn't answer honestly. But the truth was that he _did_ love her - he loved her so much but he had never told her. It was so difficult to express when you were the older one. To him it was a sign of vulnerability, weakness.

Yet he had always watched Switzerland and Liechtenstein before, wondering why he couldn't be like that with Belgium, loving, gentle – squabbling at times, but they were so happy. Of course Switzerland and Liechtenstein were at least on good terms, while Netherlands had hardly spoken with his sister, who always regarded him so coldly and looked at him like he was a monster. His destroyed heart broke even more when he realized just why his sister wanted him to tell the truth.

She thought that he never did love her.

"A-Alice...I..."

Purple's eyes darkened, all of the mercy draining quickly from his voice. "_Wrong_!" he snarled, raising the knife above his head and sinking it into Netherlands's ribcage before drawing it back out, a long trail of blood following the blade. Netherlands gasped weakly at the pain, already too battered and weak to register much of anything else. "I gave you a chance to save her! _Why couldn't you have just answered 'yes' or 'no'_?"

"Stop it!" Belgium screeched hysterically as Purple brought the knife down on Netherlands's side. "Y-You didn't even give him a chance to answer! Why didn't you give him a chance to answer? He would have…he would have just answered honestly! He needs to live! Stop it, stop it right now!"

Netherlands looked up at her again with the same sorrowful, melancholic gaze, and to Belgium, he suddenly looked so much more like a human than a nation. He wasn't the Netherlands anymore - he was just Luuk. He was her brother, who she had always looked up to and cared about, despite her being too prideful and cold. She wanted his approval, his attention – yet…she'd never asked for it.

Seeing him so broken before her – she could only stifle her sobs as her eyes swam with tears. She had always known that her brother hated her. She had hurt him beyond reconciliation, so she never felt the need to vocalize just how much he meant to her. After, all, it was all futile, wasn't it? She would get the cold shoulder, the icy stare and no response. She could only watch his broad back.

She remembered back to all those days back when everyone was young and they spent every waking hour with each other, just watching curiously as their people began building weak structures, which would gradually grow until they progressed into the elegant and study buildings they were today. They had been innocent and depended on each other, but that was before cruel reality came crashing down, their fantasies torn apart, childhood stripped away, crumbling like a dusky sun sinking in the horizon.

Next thing Belgium knew, she was facing her brother in a battlefield, twin blue eyes glaring at each other with unhidden malice.

They weren't siblings. Their shared blood meant nothing.

They had somehow become strangers once again, met with a stony impassiveness and sadness hidden under the guise of hatred.

Alice watched in horror as her brother's eyes began to mist over, clouding with the film of macabre death. His splayed limbs, mottled and shredded flesh lay in a pile before him, the knives in him cruelly inflicting more torment with each slow breath he took, the rich color of blood contrasting sharply with his pasty white skin.

The only thing Netherlands could see was his sister. It was too late now, but he'd only just realized what a beautiful woman she'd finally grown up to be. He'd never taken time to notice that – each small detail, like the color of her eyes, her little scars and flaws, the length of her hair now – Luuk had no time to regret anymore.

Perhaps she would live. It was the ultimate sacrifice, and Netherlands wished that Belgium would finally understand how much he loved her. The emotions that roiled inside him, he wished to convey to his younger sister with all his heart. A small smile played on his lips as continued to stare straight into her eyes, something he had never done before.

"N…n-"

His words were drowned out by Belgium's frantic shouts as she struggled with the manacles again, leaning forward without hesitation, screaming out the words she'd kept inside all these years when she finally understood what Netherlands had been trying to do all along, "_ Frère_!" She cried out. "I-I love you, _frère_! I don't care what you think about me, b-but I love you and I always have, so please don't go! I'll take it all back, I'll take back all the times I told you that I hated you and all the times I hurt you, so p-please don't die, I-I'm begging you _don't leave me_!" The knife was slashing at his shoulders as Purple mercilessly dug in, but despite that, Holland's eyes focused just a bit more on his sister's as his bloodstained lips opened with a pitiful smile.

"A-Alice...I lo-"

He choked off abruptly as a dagger crushed through the side of his skull, skewering his brain and leaving him in a final silence.

Belgium's eyes widened as she watched her brother's head loll lifelessly over his shoulders, a thin trail of blood trickling steadily out of his mouth and creating the beginnings of a puddle. His blonde hair was quickly becoming vivid red, blood just about surging out from around the knife sticking out of his cranium. The expression on his face…was peaceful, remnants of his small smile still left as his body went slack. She could only sit there in a stunned silence before screaming in rage and sadness.

"N..N-N-_No_! _No_! L-Luuk! _Luuk_! _No_! _Que __faites-vous ? Don't scare me! Arrête! Ne me quitte pas, arrêter de faire semblant, s-s'il vous plaît revenir_!"

Purple didn't look back, and didn't react the least as Belgium continued screaming and sobbing at the corpse of her brother. He stared down emotionlessly at Netherlands's body before feeling a vibration in his pocket. "Finish her," he said quietly to Pink, who grinned and turned towards her new plaything.

Purple opened the door that lead to the separate stairwell, flipping his cell phone open.

"Hello, love," he heard Yellow's tired, un-modified voice sighing over the crackling connection. Yellow sounded so emotionally worn that Purple couldn't help but feel his emotionless mask snap as a familiar sense of helplessness engulfed him. He was the only one who ever saw the other act like an actual _person _with brittle emotions - he was the only one who was allowed to be there when Yellow became human, and not just some soulless killing machine. After all, every one of the killers had a purpose. Purple had to swallow the lump in his throat when he remembered what Yellow's was. "How goes everything on your end?"

Purple continued up the stairs at a steady pace. His footsteps pattered eerily as Belgium's echoing shrieks became more and more distant the higher he got up. "We just finished."

Yellow gave a satisfied sigh. "That's good. I'm guessing the game went smoothly, then? Did you use all of the questions we wrote?"

"Sadly, no" Purple frowned, stopping as he reached the observational room. The first sound that greeted him upon entering was the soft trickle of the smashed pipe he had 'attempted' to fix. The killer sat in one of the executive chairs in front of a large cluster of television screens bolted to the wall. He looked into one and saw Pink gleefully tearing into Belgium's stomach with a knife while the latter was catatonic, her eyes locked onto her dead brother's face. Pink was getting more and more frustrated with her unresponsiveness. Purple hesitated and then muted the sound. "Pinkie lost control. She probably bled out half of all the blood Netherlands had in him before we even destroyed their capitals. I honestly think its mental instability that's finally getting to her – she's been downright crazy the last few times that we've seen her."

"You're right. It's as if she has bipolar. We should tell her to have Black check that out for her, that abrupt mood-swapping could be dangerous, especially if she were to swap sides suddenly. Which, I may add, I honestly don't put past her." Yellow paused, the brief silence enough to make Purple worry. "I...does it worry you, too, that she hasn't revealed herself yet? Maybe it'll ease up her…crazy. If she keeps this up, then she should know that we'll have to kill her soon to avoid anything bad leaking out of the SLK, just in case. Or do you really…really think that she's not intending to stay?"

Purple frowned. "I don't believe that she's going to cross us, but she's definitely hiding something from us then. It's not wise to keep secrets in this…profession; if she doesn't tell us then Pinkie's going to be suffering some serious consequences. And to be honestly, I don't quite feel up to killing her. I think she's growing on me, in the sick, twisted way laughing at horror movie deaths grows on you."

Yellow gave a quiet chuckle from the back of his throat, enough to make Purple break into a bitter smile as well. "Well, I was just calling to check up on you and make sure that everything's okay. I'm in a bathroom, Green and I had already caught a plane to Beijing. We're at a restaurant right now. I just wanted to call and tell you that everything's going well here, too."

"Orange isn't giving you any trouble then, I'm guessing?"

"Not at all. She's already gotten Russia over to the forest. It's about time someone's noticed that he's been gone for too long. All of the rest of the killers are mobilizing too, so everything's in place now. You and Pink need to head over, as well." There was a reluctant pause, as if Yellow was debating with himself whether or not to continue. The other killer waited patiently, his fingers rubbing at the leather armrests of his chair. He glanced up at the monitors once again - from the looks of it, Belgium had finally died, her intestines hanging out of her torn stomach as Pink still repeatedly stabbed her. Purple wrinkled his nose in disgust before directing his attention back to the call.

"Something else you wanted to say, babe?"

Yellow inhaled slowly. He whispered softly, "Black's going to destroy London soon."

Purple's eyes widened and his grip tightened on the phone receiver. A million emotions ran through his mind, so fast that he actually began to trip over his thoughts in his head. "Y-You..."

Yellow was silent. When he finally spoke, Purple could tell that he sounded just as conflicted as he must have looked.

"I-I'm sorry. Really, I am."

* * *

Belarus stopped at the doorway and glared into Russia's hospital room, as if her stare could make the tall nation appear magically out of thin air. The small group of nations behind her looked over her shoulder, their faces painted over in varying expressions of confusion and disbelief. Japan's eyes glanced quickly across the room, finding nothing out of the ordinary. It had obviously been tidied recently and looked extremely dull. "Are you sure that Russia-san has been gone for hours?"

"Yes," Belarus nodded crisply, her eyes glinting with something dark. "I know the exact second that brother left with Ukraine. It has been a very long time. _I bet she tried to seduce him_."

"I...I really don't think that's the case," Germany muttered to himself, wincing within when the silver haired girl snapped her head around to glare at him. "Did you ever think that it might have been the killers?"

"Oh I did," Belarus said, almost dismissively. "But I would have thought that they were smarter than that. I hope they would know that if a killer tried to off brother again...I would make sure that their reproductive organs were sawed off with a rusty blade before donating them to the food bank so that they would save hungry children's souls with something otherwise useless." Prussia, who was standing outside in the hallway due to lack of space, widened his eyes and lowered his hands to cover his crotch, shuddering at the thought.

"Hmm," Italy hummed noncommittally, pushing past the angry female and entering the room. He jumped onto Russia's neatly made bed and began to bounce cheerfully on it. "You're right. He has been gone for a while. With how busy this hospital is, room service only comes to straighten out your room if they know that you've been gone for a while." Germany nodded in agreement, and then noticed Belarus's dangerous glare at his smaller ally.

"Italy, get off," he hissed quickly. He expected the other to put up a fight and complain about how much fun it was to just jump on a bed and not get any work done, but to his surprise, Italy bounced off without further arguments.

"The doctor said he wasn't allowed outside for more than thirty minutes?" Japan asked quietly as the party turned and retreated back to the hospital hallway, Belarus protectively shutting the door to her elder brother's room after her. "He's definitely been out longer than that. I would say that we should investigate possible suspects, but Ukraine-san was the one that took him outside in the first place."

"Yes. So either Yekaterina was also captured, or she was the one instigating this long disappearance with brother."

Prussia chose this time to make a soft _click_ sound with his mouth as he rolled his shoulders back, popping them loud enough that Japan winced just slightly at the loud noise. "Or maybe they just lost track of time? Did anyone think of that, maybe?"

"Under normal circumstances, maybe. But since we have nation-killers running around and all, it's probably better to be safe than sorry in this situation," Italy hummed quietly as he rocked back on his heels, his eyes flitting up to look curiously at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. "They know about it, too. Russia and Ukraine would have come back in time, because Russia's just recovering from his coma and Ukraine cares enough about him to make sure that he's not in any sort of pain."

Germany glanced down at his watch before beginning to usher the other nations down the hospital hallway. "Let's start moving – we've already lost enough time in this critical situation. Belarus, has Ukraine shown any reasons for you to suspect her?"

She shook her head. "Not at all. At least, not in front of me." The nations made a sharp turn down a flight of stairs on their way to the first floor. Loose pieces of clothing fluttered as they stomped urgently down the stairs, footsteps echoing, and emerged out of the stairwell to a busy hospital scene.

Prussia panted at the back of the group as he tried to keep up with his younger brother's longer strides. "So this means that those killers got Ukraine too? Hell. I mean, I don't blame them. That girl has got the biggest damn-"

"Gilbert, I would appreciate it if you did not speak about my sister in that way," Belarus said, her voice snapping like ice. Germany rolled his eyes and pushed Prussia away from the girl.

"Stop causing trouble, Gilbert, we have serious business to attend to here." The nations passed the gift shop, Germany not unaware of but just unmotivated to tell Italy off for staring longingly at a snow globe with a miniaturized Great Wall in it. "Belarus, did you see where they were going?"

"No. They disappeared down a side road and I could not get a good view."

"That's okay, we can ask the nurses that work around here," Japan said as the group stopped right in front of the hospital doors. It was sunny outside. "They're sure to have noticed where they went. We have to hurry - if it really is the killers, then Ukraine-san and Russia-san may be in danger as we speak."

"That's a given," Gilbert snorted, trying and failing to ignore the look Belarus was glaring at him with. "A few of you less awesome people should stay back and ask around. I'll go and start looking around outside."

"No, we have to stick together," Germany countered immediately. "The killers take advantage of lone nations. If we split into different parties then we'll have more weaknesses."

"Ve, I think we should ask the hospital people," Italy chirped up happily, sounding terribly out of place in the tense situation. "It's better than running around outside without even the tiniest clue of where to go."

Belarus's eyes flashed. "Well we don't-"

"Alfred? What're you doing here?" Japan asked suddenly, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw the blonde nation strolling in nonchalantly after the automatic doors with his hands in his pockets, an unreadable expression on his face. America turned at his name, though, and blinked again when he noticed the nations all gathered in a group. A wide grin quickly spread across his face. Japan's heart burned at how fake it looked.

"I was walking around outside! Did you know that they have squirrel baths here?" he said happily. "I need to get me one of those. But what's going on with you all? Is something up?"

Gilbert clapped the American on the back when he neared, causing America's smile to become even more forced and stiff. The albino didn't notice. "Russia and Ukraine've gone missing! You agree with me that we have to go look for them, right?" America's grin disappeared immediately, quickly replaced by complete shock.

"Shit, seriously? When the hell did this happen?"

"A few hours ago, according to Belarus," Germany said, looking towards the silver-haired nation for confirmation. Belarus nodded. America's eyes widened even further.

"Are you kidding me? I'm helping you guys find Russia! Dude, I totally can't just sit here and wait while he's probably getting gang raped out there right now!"

Prussia frowned. "I _seriously_ doubt that's happening, Alfred. Problem is, these un-awesome people want to stay behind and flirt with nurses instead of going out there and actually getting stuff done. Help me persuade them to hurry up and start looking!" America looked a bit confused at the sudden turn of events.

"Kiku...you'd rather...?"

"_No_, America," Japan had to say rather forcefully, while ignoring Prussia's sniggers, to stress how completely untrue that was. "Prussia-san was trying to convey that we would rather question the hospital personnel to get a general idea of where Russia-san and Ukraine-san could be, as opposed to charging around hospital grounds with no pointers whatsoever."

"Oh," America breathed, his eyes widening. "Well then, of course we would have to ask around first! Gil, we might get lost out there and waste valuable damsel-in-distress saving time!"

Germany gently pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, closing his one eye and breathing deeply to try and calm himself as the others immediately launched into a rather loud argument about which way was the best way to go about finding the two nations. His eyes flickered across the members of the party, just watching from the sidelines as Gilbert reluctantly agreed to ask around first, but looking like a rotten toddler as he did so. It was around then that Germany first noticed it - he immediately froze and craned his neck over all of the hospital crowd, a pit of worry forming in his stomach. Italy was the only one that noticed his suddenly strange behavior, and smiled up at the taller as he asked, "What's wrong, Germany? Something on your mind?"

"...Where's Belarus?"

* * *

Russia heard the sound of something heavy being dragged across the ground, but managed to keep himself from twitching even the slightest as whoever was being dragged slid past him. He felt the lightest touch of hair against his arm and suppressed a shudder, still miraculously managing to keep his eyes closed and his breaths deep. He knew that he had been taken captive by a killer, and he knew even better that the killer in mention was his dear elder sister, Ukraine.

Just because she was a killer doesn't mean that Ivan would let himself be killed by her, however. He had been lying on what he tentatively felt was a large slab of rock in a, judging by the sounds of strangely chipper bird calls, a forest, for who-knows-how-long already. The warmth on his face, which had woken him up before, felt like it was beaming down right on him. _Noon_, Russia thought, as a dull pound of a large load being dropped sounded somewhere off to the right of himself.

He had to use just about all of his self-control to not peek over in his peripherals to check on who the poor soul was. The nation knew, as he felt the sound of clothes rustling nearing him, that whoever that was being dragged was most likely dead, due to how little struggle they posed, and how they weren't the least bit awakened by what sounded like twigs snapping against their back. He pitied them, but felt more of an anger and smoldering resentment towards the killer that was nearing him, which he could tell was obviously Ukraine.

Since when had his sister been a murderer? How could the loving, soft-spoken woman that raised him and Belarus be one of the bloodthirsty maniacs that broke apart families and loved ones? He didn't understand, at all, why Yekaterina would ever feel the urge to do something so monumentally inhumane, tearing apart families and couples in the bloodiest way possible. Of course, there wasn't a single nation that could ever claim that they didn't do both, but there was a difference between wars and the attempted annihilation of the human species. Russia felt his eyelids burn with red-hot fury as his sister stopped right by his head and wanted to demand to know her excuses, but barely managed to contain himself. He felt her hesitate before kneeling gently by him, twining her fingers into his hair like she had always done back when they were young children and it hadn't look as strange for their age.

"Oh, Ivan," Ukraine whispered, her voice cracking. To Russia's immense surprise, he felt a light patter of either tear drops, or rain, onto his cheeks. But it didn't seem like it was raining – the air wasn't nearly thick enough. "I…I can't believe that…that things would ever turn out like this, you know. I wish none of this ever happened, and that everyone was still alive and being happy." She sniffled as Ivan felt his anger dissipating quickly. It was easy for him to tell if his sister, who had been with since before he could remember, was bluffing or telling the truth. He didn't need glasses to see that she was genuinely upset.

Russia wanted to reach up and comfort her but restrained that urge quickly when he realized just what he was thinking. However, he still felt his fingers giving the lightest twitch and cursed himself immediately for that, feeling a cold sweat break out on his back in fear that Ukraine had noticed. She didn't seem to, though, and only locked her fingers tightly in the other nation's hair as she curled over his head, blocking out the sun. Her fingers were tugging on his locks till it started to hurt a little, but Russia said nothing.

"But you know…I guess Yellow's right," she continued. Russia tensed when he heard the name, and strained his ears to hear more. Was it that bastard that twisted his soft hearted sister into a sick killer with no emotions? Ivan felt rage burn in his mind. "Even back then, happiness wasn't achievable for everyone. I think that…at least if you're gone, Ivan, that you wouldn't have to see all of these terrible events that are about to happen…and that you'd at least have some peace. Sister will always be here to protect you." Russia inhaled sharply when he realized that she was talking about his death and, not caring anymore that his sister might notice, tried to sit up. He cursed softly in his head when he realized that he was bound by ropes around his limbs and torso, and mentally slapped himself for not realizing them sooner.

Ukraine finally seemed to realize that her brother had been awake all that time and jumped up with a gasp, as if she had been shocked. "I-Ivan!" she stuttered, stumbling back a step. "You…you…" Russia struggled openly with the ropes, feeling the one clamped over his right hand loosening slightly the harder that he tugged. His sister's gaze followed his, and her face paled when he realized what was happening. "Stop it! Stop it Ivan, you can't do that!"

Ivan glared up at the other nation, yanking even harder on his bindings. "Don't tell me what to do, Yekaterina. I'm not going to just lay here and let you murder me in whatever terrible way you'd killed our friends. You're my sister, and I love you, but I refuse to die like this."

She shook her head violently. "You don't understand! I…I don't want things to be like this. I really don't. But…but vanechka…" Ukraine trailed off, bending down and grabbing something from the ground before straightening back into Russia's scope of vision. The taller nation paled slightly when he saw the long slab of stone that was in his sister's hands. "I can't…I can't not do it, either," she panted, her fingers scrabbling erratically on the rock to avoid dropping it.

"Y-Yekaterina. Yekaterina! Stop!"

"There's no other solution. Yellow…as much as I hate to admit it, he's right." Russia froze when he felt the stone being set lightly onto his chest, pressing down on him with a not-yet-uncomfortable weight. However, he could quickly see where this was going and flailed under his bindings to try and tip the slab off of his body, but with no success. "There's only one solution to keep our loved ones safe, only one certain way to keep them from being hurt later on. You have to _kill_them, vanechka. I know it sounds cliché and overdone, but it's the truth. When you're dead, you're at peace. You're freed from all of the humanly evils, Ivan, and you're going to be above us. You'll watch us as this world becomes atrocious."

Russia hissed as he felt a second weight being placed on top of the first, and craned his neck out sideways to glare up at his sister. "You're insane. You've gone mad. You're _no better than them now_, Yekaterina." Ukraine looked down at him, trembling, before breathing deeply to calm herself. Her fingers reached behind her back and pulled out a beautifully ornate masquerade mask, the orange-on-yellow detailing glinting like fire in the sunlight.

"You're wrong," she whispered, as she lifted the mask and settled it onto her face before bending back out of his range of vision to presumably pick up another weight. "You're so wrong, Ivan. I've always wanted the best for you, and that's the honest truth. In a world like this, with everyone dying and killing each other, why would I want my dear baby brother to have to live through all of this? I want you to leave. I want you to leave, so you'll never have to see the suffering that the world is going through right now. You'll be an angel." Russia could see her dreamy half-smile from her uncovered mouth, and it made him both sick and angry to think of who could ever turn his sister into such an unstable maniac. "You'll be an angel. You'll watch over us. And you'll never get hurt. Yellow told me this. He told me this, and he's always right."

"I don't know who this 'Yellow' bastard that you keep talking about is," Russia spat as he felt his ribs beginning to groan in protest against the increasingly heavy weights, "But it sounds he's a first-class douchebag. Yekaterina, will you really be fine with yourself if you kill me?" He continued to tug desperately at his bindings as the escalating pain continued to crush down on him, leaving him short of breath amongst all other things. He stopped trying to keep eye contact with his sister, and could only see the gray slate of the stones crushing him. "Are you not going to regret it? Are you actually going to be happy when you see my dead body?"

He had expected for her to, at the very least, pause and give it a few seconds to think it over, but Russia was once again shocked when she didn't hesitate the least in setting the next block onto his chest, this time the weight increasing so much that the larger nation gave a pained shout. "I won't," she said, her voice too steady – too calm. "I thought I would. But after what happened with Toris…after what happened with him, I know now that I won't regret. Regretting is only for people who make the wrong decision. These slabs are your guilt, and like it, they're crushing you."

"Toris?" Ivan gasped, remembering suddenly the heavy dragging sounds that he had heard before. His head snapped towards the right as he tried to scour out the landscape for the aforementioned brunette. A sick feeling was sitting in his stomach, and it wasn't because of the weights. He knew that he had been nothing but the storybook evil stepmother to the younger nation all this time, and that guilt had always been something that wouldn't disappear, no matter how preoccupied with other things he was. Russia had always felt that he could give up his life for Lithuania, and that it still wouldn't be enough to make up for all of the blood, torture, and abuse that he had put the other through.

Surely enough, the brunette was sitting, limp, against a tree trunk, his brown hair hanging over his face, the strands stuck together with what Ivan could only assume was dried blood. Lithuania's uniform was just about dyed all crimson, with drops of blood still dripping off of the flaps and creating flower-like puddles on the ground. Russia felt numb, at a complete loss of how to react, as a breeze blew by, shifting Toris' hair and revealing a disfigured, bloody face.

Ukraine seemed to notice him watching, and she commented quietly, while settling another block onto her brother, "He couldn't stand as much as you, vanechka. All it took for him was five blocks, and then he was completely crushed. I'm proud of you though – we're already up to seven, and you still seem like you're okay."

Ivan felt something prickling in his eyes. He was surprised that he would chose to cry during such a time as desperate as this, but he also supposed that if this truly was his last few moments in life, he could definitely afford to throw away all of his pride, even if only for a few minutes. And besides, despite how much he might be currently despising Ukraine, the hard, cold truth was that she _was_his sister, and there was nothing that could ever be done to change that. Under her new mask that Yellow had sealed over her, the warm and caring sister that had raised him must be hidden under the surface.

"Toris," he moaned quietly as his right arm torqued again in its binding, trying to reach out towards what had once been the younger, weaker nation. A single tear slid out of one of his eyes, small enough to soak into his skin without dripping onto the stone he was tied on. He wet his lips and tried again. "To...Toris..."

Lithuania didn't respond, his hair shifting again, the sight underneath making Russia feel sick. The tears came faster now as Ukraine silently sat another slab onto the growing stack.

"Toris...I know you probably won't believe me now, and you probably won't ever believe or forgive me…but…after all that I did to you..." Another soft breeze blew by as the sun began to sink in the sky. "Forgive me. Forgive…me….so I can forgive myself."

Ivan's breaths began to hitch, gasping as he struggled for more air. The weight upon his chest was crushing, his lungs constraining. His sister came closer, her fingers once again interwoven with his dirty hair. She was close enough that he could make out his own face reflected in the cold sequined mask; hallowed, bloodied – eyes full overflowing with regret. She leaned in, the whoosh of her breath tickling his ear. "He's dead, Ivan. There's no use in telling him anything."

_He's dead…_

From Ivan's mouth only came soundless grunts. His ribs were beginning to give out, he could feel them crack under the pressure. How many more minutes could he continue? How long could he hold out before he was reduced to a lifeless, broken doll like the corpse at the base of the tree?

Toris, whom he had abused and thrown around like a rag doll – suffering now the final, inevitable fate of a devastated nation, murdered in cold blood by the killers. No matter what he'd done to Toris when he was raging, when he was drunk – he'd never thought of actually killing the gentle, loyal nation. He'd threatened, he'd put him in critical care numerous times yet seeing the bloodied, stiff nation pained him more than the crude slabs of rock. It was the guilt that was squeezing his heart, rendering him breathless. His pride was secondary – he no longer cared about being shamed. The unstoppable tears that flowed down his face, the great shuddering sobs he took would no longer be heard or seen by the man he'd wronged so much.

He barely registered the cold hands that wiped away his tears.

_I'm so sorry…so sorry…_

"I…"

"I….T-toris." He struggled to voice his words with the little oxygen left in his lungs. He _needed_ to tell the dead nation something that he would have never done if the younger nation was living. "_Atsiprašau…man taip gaila. Atleisk man_..."

Ivan spoke in Lithuanian, tasting the blood on his lip from biting too hard. The iron copper taste mixed with the saltiness of his tears as he struggled to keep his eyes open. The orange mask blurred as he tried to focus his eyes, he felt so detached from his physical body. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the gentle voice of his sister, "_Nine slabs! Ivan I don't want to make this painful for you_."

_Why…_

He no longer distinguished whether he was thinking, or thinking thoughts out loud. Consciousness seemed so far away.

_Why Toris?_

"Yekaterina…" he whispered. Death seemed so close, yet so far away in that moment.

"Please…please bury…him."

The sun had finally retreated as his words faded into the deep purple of dusk.

* * *

If you guys don't want to read my long-winded pleading for forgiveness, then leave now. XDD Hope you enjoyed the chappie~

…

…

Now for everyone who decided to stay.

I really don't have an excuse for this. XD Like, I could make up some lie about blah blah blah or blah, but…yeah. This is kinda a lame apology, but since I'm not particularly good at this type of stuff I don't really know how to get it through that you guys were guilt-tripping me all of this 1 year. I eventually had to bounce back and push through the wall-like writer's block that had surfaced…and then this happened. :DD

Really, the reason why the writer's block had gotten so bad was that I began to shift fandoms, and it got bad enough to where I basically hopped websites and wrote on LJ for a while for a completely new fandom. Of course, I did come back to you guys and this little devil because Angel and I swore to finish this fanfic if it killed us. That, and SLK, embarrassingly enough, has basically defined my childhood. Terrible, yes, but that's the truth. XD I remember planning SLK, writing it, dreaming of it (and I'm not ashamed), and ranting to my closest friends about what's gonna happen next and how excited I was about it. So I tried really hard to get my Hetalia-obsession back and I've already accepted the fact that it's never going to be as awesome to me as it once was, but I'll do it anyway because I love this fic, and I want to see it finished.

I gotta thank you people though so much for all of the reviews that kept coming in even during the middle of the hiatus. And of course, my team – my fanfic skype buddies, my Jieunnie-chama (Ameba on FF) who actually ended up writing a gigantic portion of this chapter to alleviate some of the block, and Angel for not losing faith in me throughout this 1 year. XD Ameba and Angel are both on Skype with me right now actually, and both of them really greatly inspire me so much and I love both of them completely with my heart~ You guys are amazing~

And now, my final apology (some names might have been repeated if you reviewed with a good amount of time in between):

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Kara2992~

...TILL THE NEXT CHAPPIE GAIZ :)

(hopefully it won't take a year this time ^^;)


	42. Crocodile Shears

This chapter.

Was a team effort.

...Good God.

**Disclaimer**: HETALIA BELONGS TO NOT US.

* * *

"Ah, it's been so long since we've all gotten together for an outing like this!" Pink sighed happily as she twirled lithely around the forest clearing like a sprightly pixie. "Last time...it was that one camping trip, wasn't it? We made so many good memories! That one time, Yellow promised me that it would be _loads_ of fun, this time as well!"

White warily shifted out of the way of Pink's flinging hair and swung himself easily onto a tree branch. His eyes drilled holes into the dancing figure before flickering cautiously around the edges of the clearing. The sun, casting its last few rays over the thick leaves, sat very low in the sky, leaving much of the forest in either darkness or a deep scarlet color. White guessed that the sun was about to slip right into the lip of the horizon line, but even from his higher vantage point he couldn't see past the towering line of trees. He didn't need to see the sun completely to fabricate his estimation of nightfall's approach, which was about in less than an hour. Just an hour more, and then it was going to be showtime.

Pink, who had showed an uncharacteristically heavy amount of interest in this mission, was still trilling on excitedly about what they were going to do and how much she was looking forward to it. White watched her carefully as she continued, "And maybe afterwards we can all go out for cakes or something, I bet Purple would really like that! I should try to convince them, don't you think, Whitey?"

She had found a large boulder in what had to be about the center of their clearing and decided to sit down on it, looking up at the other killer while radiating expectancy. White frowned at Pink's immaturity and found himself deepening his dislike for her. There was a constant air of suspicion about the female killer thought the others, himself included. The sharp variations between the Pink that they had all known at first – the more nervous, quiet killer, to the person they now knew as the Pink killer – a true, psychopathic murderer that had sharp and dangerous mood swings.

White had always considered himself cautious, and it was especially around the fickle, unstable killer that he felt his instinct warning him that something was off. He was sure the others had noticed it as well, as they had quietly questioned each other of the strange behavior behind her back. Red had once been glaring hard at Pink, the smaller killer giggling while pushing needles into the eyes of a goldfish, before turning to the others with a noting gaze. Green had been caught staring, dumbfounded, when Pink had sat at her spot by the window in their headquarters, pensively alternating between petting a trembling pigeon that was in her hands and yanking out handfuls of its feathers at a time. Yellow had narrowed his eyes and turned to whisper into Purple's ear the one time he spotted Pink drawing a knife along the belly of a live rat, the poor animal screeching in agony and terror as it was tortured to death.

"You should watch for the others instead of making plans," White answered stiffly, pawing at a small butterfly that had suddenly landed on his shoulder. The insect, startled, fluttered off and circled a good number of times around a dozing Red's head before leaving his slumped figure behind. Pink had been tracing the path of the butterfly very curiously, her eyes only snapping back up to White again after he began to speak once more. "Today's plans are really important, Pink. You should respect that and, at the very least, attempt to help instead of just lazing around. Yellow put in a lot of effort for the events tonight so we can't let it all go to waste."

Pink pouted, crossing her arms across her chest, before declaring, "Yellow's a mean one; Purple's too good for him. But he can be jerk, too, I've realized today. He said that he had things to attend to before our party tonight and popped out for a quick bit, leaving me to walk here by myself, the loser." The small killer's eyes brightened widely as she leaned towards White, kicking her legs childishly against the rock. "You wanna hear about what we did to Luuk's and Alice? Huh? It's really really cool, I promise!"

"No thanks," White mumbled under his breath as his eyes darted back out to scope if there was anyone approaching, having lost interest in the pointless conversation with the petite killer, if she were simply going to change the topic when it didn't tilt in her favor. Pink, once again, looked disappointed at the other killer's reaction.

"But...you're supposed to say that you really wanna know what happened...I just wanted to tell the story, Whitey! Come on, you'll regret it if you say no!"

White finally turned to look at Pink, completely ignoring the shorter's statements and asked gravely, "Do you know where Yellow or Green are? Momma and Papa are never late." Pink pouted at the change of topic and opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off by a lethargic voice.

"Mom might be with Purple," Red piped up drowsily from his comfortable bed on a pile of leaves that he had drawn together. "Pink said that Purple's late cause of something, right? That something's probably Mom. They'll just come in later, no biggie. In the meantime, you two calm down and take a little nap, the sunset feels really nice."

"I don't want to nap, I want to start," Pink whined with frustration. She jumped up from her boulder to cross her hands in front of her chest, setting her mouth into an irritated half-scowl. "Why aren't they here yet? What could they possibly be doing right now?"

Red cracked an eye open and frowned at the smallest killer's pestering, which White guessed was starting to disturb the other killer's nap. His tone when he replied, at least, sounded very clipped and irritated. "Planting flowers. Making furniture. Building totem poles. Singing opera. Teaching a bunch of Asians how to drive. How are we supposed to know?"

"Well, they could actually _tell_ us, maybe!"

White's lips pressed into a thin line as he gazed forward into the long shadows, the trees beginning to cast into their little clearing. Pink did have a point - those two were never late, or at least Yellow was never late and Purple tried his 'best'. Suddenly remembering something, he glanced over at the other two killers before asking, "Sunset. I just remembered. Shouldn't Orange be on the move around this time?"

White nodded silently as Pink's mood darkened obviously. The petite killer stopped shifting around restlessly and stiffened till she stood ramrod straight, her hands clenching into tight fists. White, oblivious to his fellow killer's abrupt change, replied, "Orange should be finishing up Russia. She's had so much time already, it would be suspicious if he wasn't dead yet. Do you know if she's gonna participate tonight?"

"Who knows? I think-"

"Who cares?" Pink butted in brusquely. White paused in his surveying of the area to glower at the other killer. "She's not one of the original killers anyway. Why do you guys care so much about her?"

Red pulled his mask down a bit with his hand to scrutinize Pink with an unreadable expression, but the elfin killer didn't so much as bat an eyelash. "...She's one of us now, Pinkie. She'll never know as much as us, of course, but Yellow said he needs her. She was chosen as a secondary."

"Chosen, my ass! Yellow might have gotten manipulated or something and Orange is a spy that they placed in our ranks to get inside information! I'm telling you, I don't have a good feeling about that girl!"

_And we don't have good feelings about you_, White wanted to interject the small killer, but he clamped down at the last second because he didn't want to risk angering the volatile time bomb ready to go off at any moment. Shaking his head, he instead turned to look back out at the obscurity of the forest rising around him, immersed in his own thoughts as he tuned out the squabble in the back ground. What could possibly have changed Pink so much?

* * *

When his eyes opened to a murky blackness, Russia knew he was dying.

There was no doubt it; though the quiet creeping and silent stillness was unnerving, he felt no fear or nervousness in the calming darkness. He could feel it in the way that his consciousness was swimming through opaque, gray water, in the way that it suddenly felt like he was surrounded by unending womb. The sensation set his nerves on fire – it was almost addicting; he felt as if he were surrounded by everything and drowning in nothing at once. An overload of senses rendering him helpless to power of the current that swept him up in gentle embrace. Ivan could easily see himself falling effortlessly into the cold, velvet obscurity around him, blending with the nothingness until he dissolved into minute, infinite particles and atoms.

If only he could spend an eternity in such emptiness, to leave the mortal world, his fallible body and succumb to the drowning. Metaphorically or literally, he did not think too much of it.

He felt the black fingers caressing him, slipping underneath his consciousness, tugging him down into darker and deeper chasms till the heavy walls rose all around him as he willingly liquesced. The sensation of falling into what felt like empty space itself was exceptionally thrilling, as an intense emotion began to fill him completely to the brim, leaving him in an indescribable bliss. He felt himself materialize again slowly in the vacuum of his mind, and was left to stare blankly at the utter nothing ahead of him.

_...It's you.  
_  
Russia felt himself jerking around sharply when he heard the small, clear voice that echoed in the space, but to his relief, the peaceful interruption seamlessly integrated itself into Russia's calm state. Instead, the voice of the frail, silver-haired boy that appeared before him had merely slid through the air like a blade through water. Ivan felt the first tendrils of another emotion other than peace creep around. Confusion. Who was this child, who seemed so strange yet knowing? What was he doing here, in the private recesses of his mind, heaven, hell…?

The boy, who looked so familiar and yet didn't, kept his violet eyes trained on Russia before pulling his thin, wan lips upward just slightly in a melancholic smile . And just like that, it seemed just so natural that the name came to Ivan's mind, appearing before him like clear cut words etched on a tablet.

_New...Russia...?  
_  
The smile on the boy's face became slightly saddened, but not bitter, his amethyst eyes turned a shade darker. He clasped his hands behind his back and childishly rocked backwards on his heels, the bleeding red of his sweatshirt contrasting with the shock of white hair so sharply amidst the jet darkness that spots appeared in Ivan's eyes.

_Nussia…is no more.  
_  
The boy did not open his mouth to speak but despite that, his voice rang unmistakably through the space, sliding into the air like silk. Ivan couldn't help but become more confused at the boy's response though, his face twisting in confusion as he gazed at the child in front of him.

_If not…then...who exactly are you?  
_  
The boy that had once represented the Republic of New Russia flicked his head so his fringe flew smoothly out of his vision before shaking his head sadly. Russia noticed that the same strands of alabaster hair collapsed back over his forehead, giving it a strangely messy look, as if it had been tousled harshly by the wind.

_I'm just Vladimir, now._

The expression on Vladimir's face puzzled Ivan. There a sense of resignation, sadness, yet a peace that Ivan couldn't exactly grasp or put a finger on.

_I'm not a nation anymore - no one is in death. We just become another person that died that day. I'm just Vladimir and nothing more.  
_  
A strange question came to the tall nation's mind - one that had him frowning in worry. He realized he should have considered this much sooner, especially since he was seeing a dead nation in front of him. It took Ivan a few tries before he could get the question out of his choked throat.

_Does this mean that I've died as well?  
_  
Vladimir smiled.

_Death is only but a name. _

Ivan's brows drew together in frustration.

_Then am…I dead?_

The boy paused thoughtfully, then returned to the question at hand.

_Not unless you want to be._

Ivan was now thoroughly confused. Not unless he wanted to be? Of course he didn't want to die, it meant he wouldn't be living anymore. Death wasn't an option. He would no longer be able to feel the soft warmth of the capricious daytime breeze or the chilly stillness of the dark night. No longer be able to take casual walks during the harsh winter, feeling the coldness bite down, the feathery touches of flurries of snow in their hectic dance to the ground. He wouldn't be able to speak to or banter with the other nations anymore. Or… to China.

At that thought, Russia's heart seized up momentarily, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists.

_I don't want to be dead. I still have too much to do before I die. I have to get out of here._

This time the shadow of the smile of Vladimir's face fell significantly till there was nothing but a grim somberness. He looked down into the nothing underneath them, the vacant blackness now threatening to swallow the two insignificant creatures whole. The boy reached out with his bare foot and started drawing circles with his big toe, stalling. His hair now hid his eyes as he looked down and replied in a quiet voice.

_...You're right, ge-ge. You're right.  
_  
A sudden thought shook Russia, and his violet eyes widened as he stared at the boy before him.

_But Vladimir, if you're here, that must mean that you're not completely dead as well, right? Come with me, then. I'll get the both of us out of here.  
_  
The look that came over Vladimir's face was definitely not one that Russia had expected to see. Instead of breaking into a wide and excited smile, a rare sun in the dank of the chasm, the boy instead gave merely a sad one, his eyes staring up at Ivan with regret and resignation.

_...Can't.  
_  
His voice was so small that Russia strained to catch the wisps of the sound, like airy smoke. He hesitated, expecting and not expecting that answer at the same time.

_Why?_

Vladimir simply shrugged his shoulders dismissively in true teenager fashion. The small, idle movements he made before suddenly stopped as the boy stood up straight and walked forward toward Russia. He reached out his hand and hesitated for a moment, then retracted and slipped the small hand back into his pocket before looking up and speaking.

_Because I am not really here, ge-ge. I am a part of you – I think, I feel, I see you…because I am only a figment of your imagination. I am your creation – you have molded my personality, my looks, my actions from your knowledge. You're imagining me from what other people said I looked like, or talked like, or acted like. _

The same hand that once hesitated now reached out to grab Russia's hand and guided it to Nussia's chest.

_Can you feel it? Hear it?_

Russia nodded. The slight fluttering of the weak heart of a newborn babe.

…_I'm just a mirage, ge-ge, one that you made yourself._

And just like that, the figure that had taken the shape of Vladmir slowly began to lose its color and form, the entire body misting away into a screen of something intangible. Russia only watched, silently, as the boy joined with the darkness that was surrounding him completely. He gave a final smile to where Vladimir had stood just a few moments ago.

_...Goodbye, Nussia.  
_  
The darkness seemed to give a discreet smile back, as if Nussia's presence still lingered in the air. Russia turned away from it, looking back up at the vertical ascent that he had before him. It wasn't like he had to actually climb it - if Nussia had been an illusion, then it should only take willpower and not strength to get himself up that shaft.

Giving a gigantic push, Russia forced himself to reject the darkness that was beginning to stretch long, cold fingers into him. The vacuum of pain that had once surrounded him began to waver as Russia continued to distance himself from the darkness and push towards a light that he was barely able to make out.

Wanting to groan with the return of the pulsing agony in his chest and a strange new crippling pain in his head, yet still too far detached from his body to control it, the nation continued to progress against the darkness. To his relief, the further he got from the bottom, the easier it became to shove aside the lighter shadows. The feeling of pain - of what had to be at least three broken ribs and a killer migraine, seemed to be alleviated a little. Russia ignored the sensation and continued struggling through the muck. Soon, a surprising wind came and brought him up even faster, practically rocketing him towards the light.

And just like that, it suddenly felt like his once disjointed consciousness snapped right back in place with his body, reuniting like rightful puzzle pieces that were once lost. All of the undiluted pain and coherent thoughts that had been muffled were forcibly shoved back into his body, cramming the frame until it reached its bursting point. Russia found himself groaning in discomfort as a result of the overflow. With the return of his senses came the sounds of hasty leaves crunching underfoot assaulting his ears, and the swirl of night air that surrounded him like a chilly blanket.

It was then that he noticed.

"Alfuck?"

Without the slightest hesitation, Russia raised an arm out of reflex and socked the American cleanly and beautifully in the temple. Alfred gave a strangled cry and collapsed at the side of the slab that he had freed Russia's bindings from, cursing vividly as he cradled the side of his head. Ivan snapped up from where he was lying, though he seriously regretted his decision after the world began to rock happily around him without his permission.

"_Dude_, what the actual fuck?" America whined as Russia threw out his arms to steady himself, gasping in pain. "The hell was that for? Is that how you greet your best friend after he saved you from a fate of rotting away in the middle of a forest in goddamn China?"

"You weren't saving me, you were _manhandling_ me!" Russia shouted back, not proud of a sharp crack in his voice. He shook his head to try and clear the spots but nearly toppled off the slab as the action only made him feel even more disoriented. Taking deep breaths, he forced his eyes shut and attempted to combat the pain.

"I was giving you mouth to mouth!" Alfred yelled indignantly, staggering to his feet. His voiced seemed to be tuned at the perfect pitch of obnoxious; every word he spoke had Russia cringing at new bites of agony that rocketed through his head. "I didn't know that you'd be so angry about it!"

"Stop shouting, you're making my headache worse!"

America ignored him, opting instead for continuing his angry rant with a renewed vigor. "Next time you can forget about me saving your fucking life, I'm going to use my CPR skills on some grateful bastard instead, and they're gonna like it!" Russia gasped in horror, raising his hands to his chest to press gingerly against the skin.

"You used CPR on me? Why would you do chest compressions on someone whose ribs are probably cracked? What if you punctured an organ?"

"Then I'll buy you another one! Black Market is pretty easy to access these days - " Russia's head only jerked forward more, his mouth open in utter disbelief. "Wow, someone really is an ungrateful thing, aren't they? Perhaps you'd like me to resurrect you from your _ass _next time, doesn't that sound better?" America demanded, his arms crossed tightly across his chest, his knuckles white.

"That doesn't even make sense, you douche!"

"That's why I said it, dumbfuck!"

"You inconsiderate bastard, why are you yelling at someone who just almost died?"

"Because I never before realized just how much of an ungrateful fuck that person could be!"

"Don't give me shit when you're the one that tried to kill me before!"

Realizing that he had happily hopped onto dangerously thin ice, Russia quickly clamped his mouth shut but didn't stop glaring at the frozen American. America himself looked stunned at the sudden accusation, his eyes wide but his lips pressed into a hard, thin line. Russia suddenly remembered again how easily that face had creased into insanity the time he had seen America perched on that hospital windowsill, laughing like a maniac. The bigger nation tensed, wishing suddenly that he had his pipe on him.

"Why...did you save me?" Russia asked slowly, keeping a wary eye on America as his eyes flickered around the small clearing for a weapon of some sort. The blond nation had always been just slightly stronger than him under normal circumstances, but that wasn't taking into consideration the fact that Russia just happened to wake from a coma and was just injured – an understatement – by his sister. At the thought of her, his head snapped around. "And where's Ukraine? Where's Katyusha?"

America looked down and scuffed his shoes against the dirt. "Orange? She's tied up. There." He pointed at a spot under one of the larger trees, and Russia looked over to see his sister passed out against the trunk, her wrists and legs tightly bound by the very ropes that had restrained him to the stone slab.

A jolt of despair shot through him upon seeing her looking so worn out and defeated, deep circles blooming around her eyes. Though Russia vividly remembered just what it was that she did to him, he strangely did not feel exceptionally furious about it - rather, only more distraught about the fact that she had never bothered to tell him about the with SLK or the emotional turmoil that she had been dealing with, alone. Her emotive constitution was so weak, no wonder she was so easily pushed into doing something so atrocious and inhuman.

"Don't worry," America started again when Russia had opened his mouth to question her condition. "She's fine. Managed to bash her head against your rock, though, when she was struggling to get away from me, and somehow knocked herself out. Otherwise, no damage."

Russia nodded slowly as he took in this information, keeping his eyes trained on his sister but his peripherals locked on America. The blonde was rocking self-consciously at the side of the slab Russia was seated on as time crawled by awkwardly, neither of them saying anything in the silence. The European nation, however, was practically bursting at the seams with how much he wanted to ask America, but trying to order them in such a way that the other nation would be more willing and honest with his answers. He twisted his fingers together in an attempt to organize his running thoughts, but felt that it didn't help much to pacify the curiosity. Behind him, the moon shone down on their small clearing, the beginnings of the night.

"...You called her Orange," Russia finally pointed out quietly, turning away from his sightless gaze in his sister's direction to keep a wary eye on America. "And you've tried to kill me before, in my hospital room. Am I right to assume that you're most definitely a killer, then?" The blond nation merely shrugged at the larger's statement, but didn't say anything. Russia took that as a sign to continue, raising a hand to rub at his throbbing forehead. "But you're not going to kill me yet, aren't you? You've spared me before - albeit because of England - but you just saved my life. It would have been too easy to kill me while I was out - much easier than it would be now, though I admittedly still wouldn't put up that much of a fight. You kept me alive to either order me to play dead so you could involve me in your schemes, or you were planning on sneaking away before I awoke and simply made a mistake. Which was it?"

America stopped his rocking and stood almost eerily still, his lips twitching upward just slightly in a rather bitter smile as the glint in his eyes took on a darker, but not yet maniacal, edge. "Well, would you believe me if I told you that both of those are wrong? If I told you that you weren't anywhere close?"

"No," Russia replied, immediately. America gave a saddened chuckle as he stuffed his hands roughly into the pockets of his bomber jacket.

"Well...it actually is. I didn't save your life for either of those reasons," the blonde said softly to the ground, his voice so quiet that Russia nearly missed it. The European nation opened his mouth to demand the story, but America cut him off by simply shaking his head again. "No, really. I don't think you'd want to hear it. It's actually a pretty lengthy story."

The softest chirping of crickets began to sound around them, making Russia feel almost light-headed as the scent of the night enveloped and the glow of the moon shone down on their clearing, isolating them from all of their surroundings like a secluded island of only the three. He glanced once more at Ukraine, whose head had shifted just slightly as the breeze played her hair and the ropes chafing against her skin.

"We have time," Russia said.

Surprisingly, America gave a short snort at Russia's words, a small, bitter smile spreading across his face. The reaction seemed to sink into Russia's stomach as a sick feeling rose up his throat. He realized that he knew just what America would say before the blonde's own mouth opened, and the thought of those words made him feel violently sick.

"No, actually. We don't have time." America paused again for the briefest of moments before giving a soft sigh and running a free hand through his hair. "Not if you want to help me save our friends, that is."

* * *

It was Japan who first felt uneasy.

He had been moving along a thinning forest trail with Italy, Germany, and Prussia after making a split with America at the juncture of the forest and the flat plane of hospital grounds. It had taken Japan about fifteen-minutes simply to persuade America to stay behind because he wasn't in a good condition, and that if this _was_ going to be a dangerous search party, then a sick man wouldn't do much to help. America had argued back with as much fire and spirit as he was known for, but in the very end, Japan still triumphed as the four detectives drifted towards the line of the forest, leaving America standing awkwardly behind them.

The forest behind the hospital wasn't particularly dense or too hard to navigate, and the small party of four had found themselves pawing quickly through branches and leaves in their way after the direction that the nurse had told them Ukraine and Russia headed off to. The trees were rather thin, with slim trunks and thick leaves, and it was only through their overlapping leaves and overgrown branches that the setting sun had been completely filtered into a soft green. Visible wildlife seemed to consist only of the few birds that sat innocently on tree branches, chirping away at each other, and the occasional squirrel lowering itself a bit to stare curiously at the four nations.

The party had been moving for a little over two hours when they began to have second thoughts about the safety of themselves as dark had gradually settled over them. None of them wanted to turn back without finding out at least if Russia was in the near vicinity, and possibly, in their search, stumble upon Natalya as well. They had guessed previously that she had simply become annoyed with how slow they were moving, and separated herself from the group to move along faster in order to find her beloved brother. There was no need to point out just how dangerous it was to go wandering alone in a possibly SLK-infested forest after daytime, and so there was a unspoken decision to pick up the pace even more than previously.

However, it wasn't much longer when Japan began to sense that something was wrong. The hairs on the back of his neck were rising instinctively as he thought he heard leaves shifting more violently than they should have, or even at times, a soft, muffled giggle coming from the bushes. He didn't know if it was simply paranoia, or if there truly was some…thing or someone that was following them. He only ignored the signs first, trying block out his screaming senses that something was off – and they continued through the forest, their movements beginning to slow as time passed.

"Godammit, how big is this forest? I thought China cut down most of his natural resources," Prussia muttered bitterly under his breath as he batted branches away from his face. The group was nearing the four-hour mark in searching for Russia, and it was unsaid that irritation levels were beginning to rise. "We've been out here for-fucking-ever, and there's no signs of anything living. Except for trees, though. But I highly doubt any of them could put on a mask or chase you through a house with a fucking cleaver as you ran for your life. I still haven't forgotten that, West!"

"Whisper, please, Prussia-san," Japan muttered simply from his place at the head of the group as he reached out and swiped a branch of leaves out of his vision. "Your voice will carry, and people will find us."

"That is to say if they haven't already," the silver-haired man said, shaking his head and not lowering the volume of his voice in the least. "Don't you think that the people who wanted to find us would, you know, already have done that by now? They're probably following us or something to see when we're at our weakest, and then they're going to strike."

Germany looked up and gave him his choice glare. "Gilbert. Shut up."

"But you never know, it could be true." Prussia hummed lightly under his breath, "Stupid people walking around dark forests at night, looking for an even bigger psychopath. Nations with a fucking death wish."

Japan glanced back in time to see Italy gave a soft half-whimper, half-moan and as he looked like he was going to be sick, his hands tightening their grip on Germany's sleeve. The brunette had been jumpy since the moment they stepped into the forest, clinging to Germany like moss

"Prussia, stop. You're scaring Italy," Germany sighed. He raised a hand to Italy's hair and hesitated before giving him a few awkward pats on the head in a poor attempt to show comfort.

Japan walked quietly in the middle of their party, Prussia taking the lead, and felt the sense of foreboding only get worse the further they stepped into the forest. Something was very off with the entire setting - it wasn't just the occasional rustles or twig snapping that set his instincts off, however. It was something much, much worse. However, Japan didn't realize just what that something was until he had to stop to hold up a bough for Italy to pass under, and managed to catch a glimpse of the path that they had traveled before.

He froze. How could he not have noticed?

"G-Germany-san...Italy-san, Prussia-san...something's very wrong."

Germany's reaction was the quickest, and it was he that stopped Prussia and Italy from advancing with a commanding hand dropped on both of their shoulders. "Japan? What did you find?" he asked, the slightest hint of worry staining his voice.

Japan could only shake his head as he continued to study the path they had taken. Even though a few twigs were snapped from where Prussia had struggled against them and some of the leaves had been ripped off by an impatient Germany, it wasn't hard for the Asian nation to picture what the area had looked like before they went through. "Can you...can everyone come back for a second?"

There were a few quick moments of shuffling over the obstacles they had just passed before the other three Europeans stood behind Japan, staring out quizzically at the wildlife before them. "What's wrong?" asked Prussia, "What're we looking for?"

Japan's fingers clenched into tight fists. "Did you guys notice...notice that the route we took to get here looks different from the surrounding forest?" The other three nations cast their glances out but saw nothing, their eyes flickering with confusion.

"What do you mean, Japan?" Italy questioned slowly, his brow furrowing lightly as he began to gnaw on his bottom lip in thought. "Is something out of the ordinary here?"

"Yes, Italia-san...I suppose that I wasn't the only one assuming that we were creating our own path through the forest in the direction that we were told Russia and Ukraine were headed?"

Germany nodded, the set of his eyes still drawn in confusion. "We deviated from the pre-made forest path because it turned out to be a loop and we would only end up back where we started. But I don't see anything wrong with that. If you're worried about us getting lost, Japan, I can assure you that we would eventually-"

"No, Germany-san," Japan said softly, shaking his head as he tried to calculate just how far they had walked. It had been almost hour on the path, so that meant they spent a little more than three hours on this one. "If everyone looks around and notices the state of the rest of this forest, it would be obvious that most of it is completely unnavigable, correct? The strange vines and bushes grow too close and there are fallen trees piled one atop the other on the forest floor - it would be difficult to force our way through obstacles without expending energy."

"I still don't see where this is going!" Prussia said loudly.

Japan almost sighed. "A minute more, Prussia-san, please. So we naturally sought out patches of forest that would be easier to move through. We...the route that we thought we were 'creating' was pushing through the least dense tangles of wildlife, was it not?" He nodded his head at the trees before them, which they could only half-make out in the darkness. "That is where we didn't realize our mistake."

Germany and Prussia still looked confused, while Italy's face descended into one of pure horror.

"Oh no." Japan and Italy shared a look, just as Italy began to tremble. "N-No way...I didn't...I didn't even notice that at all..."

"Wait, wait," Prussia burst suddenly, his finger rising in demanding for all conversation to cease. "What's so bad about finding easier routes to take? It's faster and easier than forcing our way through parts of the forest that we knew we couldn't get through. We didn't do anything wrong."

Japan opened his mouth to answer, but strangely enough, it was a weary voice from the surrounding bushes who responded faster. "Kiku and Italy are worried because the sizes of the paths that you've been taking have been really consistent. How wide those 'easier-to-navigate' patches of forest you've picked stayed the same, which means that it wasn't natural. Basically, the trail that you have been walking was preplanned. You're being herded."

Japan's blood ran cold when he heard that familiar voice and snapped his eyes around in time to catch sight of the newcomer stumbling over from around a particularly thick tangle of trees. As he watched, America tripped against a hidden root and slammed into the trunk of a tree as he glanced up at the detectives and their shell-shocked expressions, pulling a corner of his mouth up into a wry grin. His face was scratched with pink marks and the occasional red blood smear from pushing past branches without using his hands, as well as quite a few twigs and leaves poking from his bomber jacket. Additionally, there was the strangest swelling on the left side of his jaw, as if someone had decided to up and sock him in the face.

"A...America?" Italy, surprisingly, was the first one to snap out of shock, his voice made incredulous by the blonde's strange and impromptu entrance. "Y-You're...you're here...?"

America smiled again, though it was a bitter smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He readjusted a large lump in his arms, and it was then that Japan realized that it was a semi-conscious Russia. "The 'land of the free and the home of the brave', still in one piece! Great to see that you guys are the same," he rattled off in a cheerful, but hollow sounding, voice.

Japan finally snapped out of it when America finally managed to maneuver Russia around a few larger logs and join the detectives in their very small group. The Asian nation reached forward immediately to help take some of Russia's weight off of America, but Germany was faster and soon had the taller leaning completely against his shoulder. Russia himself seemed to still be drifting weakly in and out of consciousness, but looked to be quickly becoming more and more alert to what was happening around him.

Japan decided to put off the obvious questions of just what the hell America was doing in the forest with them and how he had found them for later, and instead settled with asking, "What happened to Russia-san? The killers had gotten to him, didn't they?"

"Yeah," America sighed, glancing quickly over at Russia cautiously before turning back to Japan and muttering, softer now, "It was...it was Ukraine who did this to him. She had him crushed between these horrible-looking sheets of rock, it looked painful as fuck. I managed to stop her and get him out of there, but...Lithuania. I...I think she killed him too, he was dead and leaning against this one tree there."

"Lithuania's dead?" Prussia echoed, a look of utter shock and loss plastered over his face. Germany and Italy both looked equally appalled as well, and Russia opened his eyes weakly only to look away. "Ukraine...Ukraine killed Lithuania? But that guy...that guy never did anything wrong. He never did _anything_! How did he even become a target?"

"...Who knows?" Germany sighed quietly. He reached up with a free hand to pull the strap of his eyepatch tighter before replacing his grip on Russia's shoulders.

America lowered his face into his hands just briefly before inhaling sharply and dragging his fingers down his face, glancing up at the rising moon above their heads. Japan managed to catch a glance at America just as his expression twisted, for the briefest of seconds, into something dark and confused. His blue eyes took on an almost misty sheen as the moon reflected eerily off of them in a haunting way, but America blinked just a moment after and the look in his eyes were gone. Nevertheless, Japan was worried, and hesitated only slightly before stepping up to the blonde's side.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, only for America to hear.

America glanced down at Japan, their eyes locking for the briefest of moments. The manical glint that had been in those aquamarine orbs had changed into something else – a resigned set had taken over his normally sparkling eyes, dulling the color till Japan almost felt like he was staring at a nation that was even older than he was. The Asian nation inhaled sharply, surprised, and almost took a step back in his shock. Everything about America suddenly seemed so foreign and different, as if this wasn't the same nation that he had known and interacted with for so long.

A small smile tugged at the corner of America's lips when he spotted Japan's uneasiness. He hesitated, and then suddenly raised his fingers tentatively to very gently flick a few strands of the smaller nation's hair, his eyes focused on the short midnight black strands as they fanned out against the night sky before settling again. Japan's brow furrowed in absolute confusion at America's actions, but something about that simple stroke must have set the younger's nation's heart to rest. America turned around again to address the rest of the party, but not before Japan caught a glimpse of a rare, peaceful smile.

"Guys, we have to move. Now. The killers have most likely found us by now and are about to catch up. I say that we turn around and-"

But America's words were cut off by the firing of a gun from somewhere to their right, and pandemonium instantly broke out among the few nations gathered. Someone, most likely Italy, began to scream loudly as Japan felt fingers close around his wrist and pull him back towards a particularly dense patch of trees. Japan snapped out his arm and snagged Prussia by his uniform just as the ex-nation lunged forward to catch Italy by the sleeve and drag him after.

"Move! Everyone, get out of here!" America's voice sounded. "Run!"

Japan obeyed without a second thought. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, only occasionally looking over his shoulder to see if the rest were behind him. His lungs screamed for air, but whenever he slowed down just a fraction, America would yell and someone would push him faster. His feet pounded over roots and uneven patches of dirt. His ankles twisted but America ushered them all forward at an such a rapid pace a part of Japan wondered briefly if it was actually America they were running from.

Finally, after what felt like hours they stopped in a patch of overgrown vines. Japan placed his hands on his knees and gasped for air. Italy leaned against him and panted while Prussia cursed and continuously ran his hands through his disheveled silver hair. Russia was propped against the tree and his chest rose so shallowly Japan knew they needed to get him back to the hospital. Moscow had made progress, but not enough to restore his immortality, and the rebuilding had been put on hold for the time being.

"Oh man, this is bullshit. We're going to die. We are so going to die." Prussia paced in a continuous loop, his fingers reaching to tangle in his hair.

"I don't want to die!" Italy wailed and clung to Japan's arm, nearly knocking him off balance. "Japan, I don't want to be in here anymore."

"No one is going to die!" America snapped. "Prussia, enough. You're scaring Italy."

"Oh, and how the hell are we supposed to get out alive?" Prussia lurched forward until his nose was pressed against America's. "Huh, any ideas, Goldilocks?"

"Fighting with me isn't going to help." America lifted a finger and pressed against Prussia's forehead, pushing the other nation's face away. His voice had taken on an edge that made Japan's spine tingle, and his next words were spoken just the same. "For now, just keep quiet."

"Hey, w-where's Doitsu?" Italy cried suddenly, his eyes widening sudden alertness. Everyone looked around, and sure enough Germany wasn't anywhere to be found.

"He must have gotten lost," Japan said as calmly as he could. Nevertheless, he felt a wave of unease blanket him as the trembling from Italy's fingers only became more pronounced. "He only has one eye, and even that one was damaged in the explosion."

"We have to go back!" Prussia declared obstinately. "We aren't leaving my brother."

"You can go back all you want." America heaved Russia over his shoulder and began to walk on. His eyes were merely icy slits as he trudged forward, not looking at anyone. "I'm getting out of here."

Japan froze with unease, but it wasn't him that spoke up next. "How…how _could_ you?" Prussia's face twisted with disgust. "You run around claiming to be a hero and that anything is possible and now you're going to leave my brother to the murderers and let him get slaughtered?"

"He's already dead," America replied without stopping or looking back. Japan watched Prussia's expression freeze. His hands twitched with anger. Japan readied himself to step forward and attempt to stop the impending fight.

"America, wait!" Italy's eyes brimmed over with tears and to everyone's surprise America halted abruptly. "I-I know you're hurting inside. I know you miss Canada with all your heart, but none of that was your fault." He took a step forward, away from Japan, and stumbled a bit. His voice wavered when he met America's stone-cold eyes, but continued, "You can't keep blaming yourself. I used to think that if I had only been faster, smarter, stronger, I…I might have made it to that house in time to save Lovi. But I've learned that you can't think like that, A-America, and you can't give up trying to save people because you lost someone you loved. Because you can…you can fight for, fight in their memory. And I know that Lovi would b-be proud of me if he saw me now, fighting for his life that was wrongly stolen from him, and that's enou–"

"Nice speech," America cut in coldly, making Italy draw back in fright. Russia dangled over his shoulder like a dead carcass of a large animal. He continued through the dense brush as Italy, shocked, stood stock still. "Work on your voice, though. No one wants to hear a hero cry. You gotta be tough or no one will listen to you, kid."

"A-America, what…what happened to you?" Italy choked back a sob and wiped his eyes from the collecting tears. Japan reached over and gently wrapped his arms around the other nation's shoulders, he himself in shock at the sudden turn of personality, the heartless words coming out of America's mouth. "What happened to being the hero?"

For a moment, there was no sound except the call of the crickets and the sigh of the ominous wind in the dark of the looming trees, until America finally turned his head so that only his eyes were visible over his shoulder. They were flat and dark with no soul, no fire. The absence of a spark he once had, only an icy coldness left in hollow voids.

"He grew up."

Just then, the branches of nearby bushes rasped together and moved – someone was there. "Shit!" America reeled backwards and nearly backed into Prussia. Italy let out a piercing shriek and Japan hurriedly slapped a hand over his mouth, attempting to stifle his own silent scream before ducking down, forcing Italy's head down along with his.

Yet when the branches of the bushes parted for the figure moving through it, everyone other than America let out a collective sigh of relief. In fact America only seemed to tense more, the line of his back going rigid, as if waiting in dread for something more. Russia's arms wavered slightly in response.

"Germany!" Italy rushed forward, tearing away from Japan, his tearful eyes shining with relief.

"West!" Prussia yelled at the same time.

"Don't!" America shouted with such ferocity and power that Italy skidded to a stop, cowering as if America were about to strike him. _America wouldn't do such a thing though_, Japan thought with conviction.

"America, what's wrong?" Japan hurried to Italy's side.

"Yeah, dude, what the hell?" Prussia said before calling to Germany. "West, come on, we gotta get out of here! The rainbow death squad is all around this joint." Germany didn't say anything, or if he did, the soundless strangled words never came out. Instead he took one step and staggered, more crumpled at the foot of the tree, and did not get up again.

"Doi-!"

Italy's call evolved into a shriek of pain and even Japan covered his mouth in horror at the sight.

So many wounds. Puncture wounds, clean wounds that ran into each other so much that the injuries became a mess of gashes of flesh, marred further by the now violet blood in the night – Germany's once strong, stolid figure reduced to a crumpled figure on the ground.

Before Japan even grasped what he was seeing, the figure who standing behind Germany's lifeless body stepped out of the shadows. Quiet, blood-chilling chuckles reached their ears. "Well, fancy what I've found here, wandering in the forest. A group of lost little loves!" Yellow proclaimed. He clapped his hands delightedly, making no move to approach the rest of the group. The eyes behind the mask found America, and though Japan couldn't see the line of the killer's mouth, Japan knew from the glint of his eyes that Yellow was grinning. "And little boy blue!"

"Shut up!" America snarled at the murderer. He nearly dropped Russia.

"Oh, touchy. Too bad our little game is coming to an end, America." Yellow gestured at Germany's body. "I must admit sacrificing your queen was tricky," there was a tilt of the head and another small laugh,"but come on now, this is me we're talking. Then again, you were never quite adept at chess."

"West!" Prussia bellowed, disbelief and insurmountable fury in his voice. "I'm going to fucking kill you! Come on, Japan! He's alone. We can take him!" Japan nodded and got to his feet, ready to charge straight into Yellow without a second thought. There was no way Germany was just gone, surely he was only unconscious, only knocked out. The wounds looked so horrendous but Germany had such an iron will that – Japan refused to believe that Germany was truly gone. He couldn't imagine it. It was the only thing keeping his thoughts rational. Italy, on the other hand, looked ready to pass out from fright and shock and didn't even acknowledge Prussia's command.

Just as they made it halfway through the clearing, America seemed to materialize in front of them. "No!" he shouted with urgency toward the struggling countries. "He's not alone. He's too smart for that. It's a trap, there's no way that only Yellow's here, you all need to fucking run!" Without waiting for a further reaction he shoved Russia at Prussia. Prussia fell backwards with a yelp, catching Russia's dead weight just in time.

"What do you mean 'we' have to go?" Japan asked as Prussia groaned beneath Russia's weight. "What about Germany-sama?"

"I'll do what I can. You go." America turned his back on them and quickly withdrew a pistol from the waistband of his jeans. "Don't worry about me. I'll hold him off for as long as I can!"

"No!" Japan shouted with vehemence, pleading. "America, you can't! Not after all this! You can't do this alone, and I won't leave Germany-sama behind!"

"Damn right we can't," Prussia snarled.

"You have to," America said quietly, looking straight at Japan with eyes that glimmered with nameless emotion. "This is the only way for this to end. Please, Kiku, I owe the world after what I've done."

"What happened to Canada wasn't your fault!" Japan cried, wanting to rush forward and shake America violently by the shoulders. "You can't go and die because of this! You can't face them!"

"If…only that were true." America gave a sad laugh that shook his shoulders, melancholic sorrow that left Japan with a sinking feeling of despair. "This is what I deserve. Please. Go. There's nothing you can do to help me or Germany now. Think of Italy, Japan. Think of your family at home, think of all the people you need to save."

"Like you should be the one giving such emotional speeches, America," Yellow interjected with a snicker. "Go on, love. Let him play little hero for one last time, it's what he wants, isn't it? Surely you can't deny him that." Sarcasm dripped from the venomous words. Yellow crossed his arms and waited for the 'touching' parting to be over.

"A-Are you sure about this?" Japan swallowed a lump in his throat, his eyes stinging so much from threatening tears that he couldn't see straight. There was no way he could tell America what to do - he was his own nation and could make choices for himself, but to –

"I'm sure. I've been so wrong and blind for so long. I promise I'll do what I can for Germany, but you have to get Italy and Russia out of here." America pulled the hammer to his gun back before turning away to face his foe. "Go." With a whisper, America continued with one last wistful smile at Japan. There was nothing the Asian nation could do except feel the rush of salty tears dribble down his cheeks.

Prussia stood stock still, his eyes locked on Germany's body. "He's not dead. I would have felt it," he whispered. His expression was twisted with agony, and his entire body leaned forward as if Germany were a magnet. "I can't do this. I can't leave. I won't!"

"Prussia-san." Japan touched his arm. Prussia looked at America helplessly.

"Don't make me leave West like this." Never in his life had Italy heard Prussia beg, or even be on the verge of tears. He was too headstrong and resilient for such things, but the Prussia standing here now was helpless, scared, and so fragile one touch would send him crumbling.

"Hey," America said with all his usual air-headed cheer. "I'm the hero, remember? No man get's left behind!" Italy could have sworn he heard the other nation's voice crack, but Prussia seemed to accept this as they all turned and ran deeper into the woods, leaving America behind.

* * *

ALRIGHT. SO. SPECIAL KUDOS TO ANGEL FOR PUTTING UP WITH MY UTTER CONFUSION WHEN IT COMES TO THE STORYLINE OF THIS FIC, TO OUR MASCOT FOR ALLOWING ME TO USE HER AS FREE LABOR, AND TO AMEBA FOR HELPING OUT THIS CHAPPIE AS WELL AS THE ONE PREVIOUSLY. YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME, AND I LOVE YOU ALL.

I apologize if I sound a little hysterical, I spent all of this early morning reading Pride and Prejudice, and I have to finish it by tomorrow. That, and midterms are coming up (HOW LOVELY) and I couldn't study well for them without not updating SLK, cause my conscience wasn't clear of not updating in three months. Well, if I'm determined enough I might actually finish a chapter in time for Christmas or New Years. But you guys know me, and the probability of something like that happening are 0.0000001% Still, it doesn't hurt to hope ^^

I actually wrote this entire chapter while suffering from some writing...iunno what to call it. XDD But anyway, summarized, my writing has gotten a lot, LOT worse the past few weeks and I have no clue why. So this chapter was tweaked for the longest time JUST BECAUSE the first draft was so, utterly horrible.

Well, that's enough of my ramblings. Here are the shout outs today, brought to you by our lovely mascot~ Take it away, Noraaaaa~

_Nora here! You don't know me…. But Lucky is too lazy to copy and paste all these names, even though she read them all, so she forced me to do it :l so here's the shout out! From SLK's new mascot, Nora! ehehehe_

_Annonomis ish, Wolflover123123, avaflava1 , Deidara7710 , MaskedPikachu, Whoa, Cuz I'm too lazy XD XD XD XD, kiku-dii1999, Sunny-Blue-Sky, pwnsome-duo-X3 , , werehere101 , TCNinja96, Mai Sachiyuki , ALittleEmotion , VoiSieteQui , lostterra25, CarnivalFreak, Alecia Braginski, rissysaur, Meerier, Skippy the Hobolo , Foreign Language, Just A Girl With A Keyboard , MayFlowerxxx , SummonerAmaterasu , Mitosi , RedRibbon of Fate, nationalemergency , inevitablerainfall, Rainbow Glitter Tears , pluckthefruit , BeastieofTheShadows12, Duckster's-Rave , Liung Arkeanda, MagicRoxSox , Chromatic Simplicity, TheDeepestEmeraldGreen , NyanNyan, Minako Hozuki, Ensei Angel-Faye, a little black feather, xXIvana BraginskiXx, Anonymoose, ChakkuChakku , bleedingsmirk , Herr Nomnoms, Bookwurm, Yume Ninja, angelsxdemons, sakuraondo, HaloReaper83, Keep Calm and Stay Heroic , TkLaMB, ninjamaid7, FMAlcheholic, Ill give flowers-for your life, BradburyStreet, Rapier-of-Red , rae1112, A Single Koi, DiGi Kurosaki, claudiaasd, PrussItaRussians, KellyIouri, Lohikaarme, Dontmezwitme , o0XxGurenxX0o , mushluver4ever, AntonioAndRomano4Ever, Savannah Lee , D, xKnight-of-Yorux , NightWolfMoon, WOOT, Mirage Nightray , Her Diary, EvangelineNoel, Nasu-chan luvs tomatoes, britishpudding, Dust-Raccoon, Akai Hoshi Neko, SchemingAlchemist, georgster101, Nolachu, littlemissy3, Kayzz, EBIL DUSTBUNNY OF DOOOOM, Lydiacatfish, Deprivation, sky-journey, Wind In Your Whiskers, AikoujOi, Her-Bloody-Majesty, Onyx Lacrymosa, PuppetMasterPuppet, MusicoftheNight008, Aurazelia, Mixle, Ophelion, Kara2992, Dr. Stilla Live, Xakia, phireye, KellyIouri, ike3, , Wicked Winter, theboywiththebread, Kitty-Katz-Katz, kiku-love231, Goddess of Scandinavia, aaaaaaand~_

_ThatPurplyThing_

SEE YOU GUYS NEXT TIME~ WATCH YOUR HEAD ON YOUR WAY OUT~


	43. Blind Chapter: Yellow I

Hey, are you surprised to see us? I know I am! A word from the lovely lady who wrote this chapter:

**Yeah hey, it's Lucky here, whoring on Angel's AN with my own little snippet. Sorry, but I shall promise that it'll be short. **

**First, iunno if Angel mentioned this before or not...but you guys are damn lucky that I thought April Fools was on the 4th for some reason (don't ask please) and you didn't get your prank this year. Can we also take this moment to note how we've only managed to progress about, what, three chapters since the last prank? Obviously, Lucky needs to get shot. **

Yes, you guys are awesome like Prussia for putting up with our shenanigans and for that Lucky has given us a new chapter at this ungodly hour! Hope you like for it is a Blind Chapter, and we all know what that means!

**Disclaimer: **We still don't own Hetalia, even after all these years...

* * *

The hasty rustles and muffled whispers from his retreating allies were only faintly heard by Germany as he lay there on the forest floor, wincing and twitching in pain. Even then, though, he was glad that Italy and the others had obeyed the killers and fled. It was better _him – _ a nation already broken and standing on death's doorstep – than any of the others, who might still be able to fight on. Germany tried to take a shaky breath, but the knife must have punctured a lung because it threw him even further into anguish.

He was fully aware that he should have died already. If he had been a mortal human, the very first stab wound, a deep puncture right into his diaphragm, would have only given him, at the most, ten minutes left. The second would have cut that time to...four, maybe? And then the third would have ended his life immediately.

But it hadn't. Instead, Germany had only stood there, still in complete shock at being attacked so suddenly, as a figure had pulled out a cloth to stuff harshly down his throat before proceeding to stab him five, six, seven, maybe even more, times. It was then that he heard the voice - an ugly, filtered sound hissing into his ear.

"Love, I want you to play dead for me. Disobey, and this entire forest will go up in flames, including all of your dear friends within it."

He couldn't let them do that. There was no way.

Someone had to play the hero.

And so, Germany had reluctantly obeyed the killer and closed his eye. A second later, and something hard pushed him away from the tree. He fell, helplessly, to the ground and didn't get back up. He didn't move when he heard Italy and Prussia's excited cries, or when those happy calls turned into shouts of horror. He didn't move when he heard America declaring that he'd remain behind with the killer, or when his friends turned reluctantly back into the forest. He only moved when Yellow grabbed a fistful of his once-perfect hair and pulled him up to his knees by it, and that was just to struggle weakly, with the little bit of fight that he could still manage.

"You know, Yellow?" Germany heard America ask from behind him. The younger nation's voice was laced with something dark and disapproving. Germany wanted to tell him to come to his fucking senses and run away with the others, but the cloth was still crammed into his mouth, and he doubted that he would have enough energy to reply anyway. "I really don't think it's very considerate of you to make someone leave their friend while he's in his final moments. You could have just given Germany to them - he would have died anyway. I didn't think that you would be so heartless as to take away a man's last words."

The killer gave a soft chuckle. Germany forced his single eye to open and adjust to see the ornate mask pressed against Yellow's face, the color so pale and shocking that it almost felt like it was emanating light in the darkness. The mere sight of the killer before him made Germany's blood boil, but he couldn't move his limbs to defend himself or bash that smug bastard's nose in.

"I don't want to hear that I'm heartless from the one that manipulated his own brother to murder for him," Yellow murmured softly, his voice no longer gravelly or deep. Germany realized with a sudden shock that the voice modifier was turned off, and that Yellow's voice was one that he could recognize from a mile away. An instantaneous wave of betrayal and fury crashed over his body like ice water, leaving him stunned. This nation? It was...this nation? "Tell me, America. Did you plan this far? Did ever think what you would do if Canada didn't come crawling back to you? How are you going to kill Black now?"

"So you knew," America said.

"It honestly wasn't hard to figure out you had something planned," Yellow said. "The way you were so sure Canada was going to come back, and how you panicked and tried to kill Russia in the hospital when you finally realized he wouldn't. I'll have you know, giving an easy way out to one of _my_ toys is highly offensive."

Germany struggled around his gag to demand what this nation was talking about. America had tried to kill their leader? He used Canada? Then was America a killer gone rogue? Infuriated, he glared accusingly out at the other nation. He wanted to beat the brat down, but he was lightheaded from the blood that he lost from the wounds and could only manage a weak groan – even that was muffled by his gag. Yellow blinked down at him and gently raised a finger to run it faintly down the side of Germany's face in a perverted pacifying gesture. Germany tried to jerk away, but he only managed a weak twitch.

"So I don't get to save the world." America's voice was quiet but confident. Germany watched as Yellow's attention switched from him to the younger nation. "However, at least I get to take you down. I won't be forced to give everyone a quick death if I get rid of you." America's eyes narrowed. "I won't let you use people anymore, Yellow. It's wrong!"

"So it comes to the pot calling the kettle black. Tell me, love, _how_ many nations did you sacrifice just to get closer to Black? Your own states, Cuba…Norway, Greece, Vietnam…oh, there's Finland, we simply _can't_ forget Finland! And…who was the other one again?" Yellow tapped his finger to his chin, his words lilting with amusement. The killer was obviously enjoying America's steeling eyes with a sort of sick pleasure that Germany didn't know that particular nation could get off on. "Oh silly me, of course. It was _Canada_, your own _brother_! Your _twin,_ no less!"

"It's better them than the world!" America snarled.

Germany could practically see Yellow's eyebrow raise mockingly from behind that mask. "And who gave you the right to decide?"

"It was the only way!" America whipped a hand through the air. Something in his demeanor was changing, too, and his voice carried more confidently through the air. "Canada would have agreed!"

"He didn't know how dangerous your requests were until the very end, love," Yellow said. America gave a wry grin before cramming his hands into the pockets of his jeans and pushing his hips forward in a relaxed manner. Germany could tell it irritated Yellow from the way the killer's fingers tightened in his hair. "Two children that think you could change the fate of the world...do you know how _young_ you sound, love?"

"Don't look down on us just because you're older! Canada...my brother was a smart one. And I completely underestimated him."

Yellow shook his head and sighed. The corners of his black cloak caught the wind at his movements and snapped in the air, elongating and twisting his shadow into something sinister. Despite the killer having the more threatening appearance, however, Germany found a side of him thinking that in this situation, it actually felt like America held the advantage - more power, more knowledge. Something about the killer seemed...hesitant? Frightened? He didn't know what it was.

"He became completely insane while playing _prince_ for you. He was a good brother, loved you unconditionally, and as _thanks_ you drove him mad."

America finally gave a slight laugh and shifted until he entered Germany's line of sight. Their eyes locked, one a steely gray-blue and the other a darker shade, misted with the faintest touch of silence and deception. A corner of America's mouth twitched up into a smile. "I had to prove to Black I was willing to sacrifice anything."

Germany glared at America with fury. From the way they spoke to each other, it was too obvious which side America was on, and it enraged Germany like no other. _I can't believe I once put myself with you monsters_, he wanted to hiss venomously, but couldn't so much as mumble coherently around his gag. The younger nation seemed to get his gist, however. America's eyes crinkled in amusement, and though they were glittering with mirth, Germany saw hidden within an old, tired man who had seen more than he was ever supposed to. It disoriented him, even through his almost-delusional haze. His vision swam before him as a feeling of something uncomfortable began closing around his heart.

"There are no sane nations," he heard America rattle off, cheerfully. "Not a single one of us is humane. Not a single one is innocent. We've all killed and we've all held the dying before. Just because you _think_ you're sane doesn't mean that you _are_. The ones that think they're still pure, after all that blood - all those tears and lives - well, _they're_ the crazier ones, don't you think?"

A sudden, white-hot pain erupted in Germany's chest and shot through his body to the tips of his fingers and toes. He found the strength in the new onslaught of agony to arch his back violently. He coughed and gagged on the cloth in his mouth as gurgles, mixed of his blood and screams, fought to stay behind the balled rag. Blood surged up his windpipe but was blocked from leaving his mouth, and he only ended up choking on it further. He realized, in shock, what was happening just around the same time that the others did. An almost animalistic terror began to well up from within as his mind finally registered that there would be no getting out of the situation that he was in, and that this was the end.

It was, finally, the end.

"That would be Berlin." Yellow's voice sounded distant and distorted, as if he was listening to the killer from very far down a hall. "I have to commend you, Germany for staying conscious this long after the wounds I gave you. Any normal personification would have, at the very least, blacked out ages ago. I'm sure that you were a great asset to those detectives, weren't you? Pity."

Germany couldn't comprehend what Yellow had said at all. Wild, panicked screams from Berlin were filling his mind, and quickly became the only thing that he could hear. He felt the centuries of history, memories of both the best and the worst of his people, being swallowed up by emptiness and fading away forever. Another surge of what felt like blood rocketed outward from his heart, dulling his senses and eyesight even further until he could only make out blobs and dots. The feeling of death began to creep into his limbs, weighing them down for good. He didn't feel scared or calm - but rather he was filled with a light feeling in his decimated heart. The feeling that it wasn't yet his time - that he shouldn't have had to die here.

Was that what the other nations felt as well?

_...I'm sorry...__  
_

As Germany entered the last seconds of his life, he became light as a feather. A strange scene flashed before his eyes. Within an incomprehensible well of emotion, he was able to muddily sense that something about the picture seemed hauntingly familiar. The memory itself was of nothing shocking. There was a small, pale girl atop a hill, waving furiously at him with one hand while rubbing the tears off her cheeks with the other. The sunlight glinted off her auburn hair, but particularly on a strange curl that Germany somehow knew would never stay down.

"_I'll wait for you_!"

And suddenly, that face looked so much more familiar.

_...?_

_...I...tal-?_

...

* * *

Italy managed to skid to a halt when Prussia suddenly froze in place at the head of the pack, Russia over his shoulders. His eyes widened when he noticed how badly Prussia was shaking, how he suddenly looked like he was about to topple over, and a sour taste rose to the back of his tongue. He was a quick thinker. It didn't take him long to figure out just what was going on.

He just as quickly disregarded the notion, however. Germany was fine. There was nothing wrong with him. He had America there with him now, and America was powerful and would be able to take on Yellow. Of course, they would be behind them, trying hard to catch up. All Germany needed were a few stitches for the wounds on his back and everything would be as good as new. Italy was so busy trying desperately to come up with any other reason for Germany's chance of living that he didn't notice Prussia beginning to stagger dangerously.

"Prussia-san!" Japan called out in alarm. He reacted quickly and reached out, shifting Russia's weight against his own side just as Prussia collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily and clutching at his chest. "P-Prussia-san! What's wrong? D-Did something happen to...?"

Italy could only watch in muted horror as Prussia, one of the most egoistic, confident, loudest nations he knew, curled in on himself and gave one of the most piercing, agonizing screams any of them had ever heard. Italy began to shake as well, his stomach churning as the world spun around him. He stumbled back against a tree, unable to tear his eyes away from Prussia as another screech ripped from between his lips.

_No...no...it can't be..._

"Italy! Come help me with Prussia!" Japan cried urgently as he set Russia against a wide tree trunk and doubled back to where Prussia lay on the ground. The ex-nation was now writhing in pain as he gasped and shrieked. His fingers clawed desperately over his heart and face, as if both were on fire. Japan bent down and attempted to pull one of his arms over his shoulders, but Prussia only curled further into himself.

And as Italy watched, frozen, his brain refused to connect with reality. What was happening?

_...No...he's faking it. He just wants attention. There's no way Germany is...he can't actually be..._

Japan looked up, his dark eyes tearful and scared. Italy didn't budge from his spot against the tree. "_Italia-san_! _Please_! Help me get Prussia-san up so we can keep moving! We're losing time and the killers could be right behind us!" Japan desperately tried to untangle Prussia's arms from around his torso.

_Why are you still pretending, Prussia? You're so selfish. Get up. Get up already. _

"_Italy-san_!"

Too many things were happening too fast, what with Prussia's ear-rending screams and Japan's panicked cries of his name. Italy's head began to throb, and though he took deep breaths to try to calm down, he found himself charging forward suddenly to where both nations were on the ground, red seeping into his vision. He felt lightheaded and strangely detached from the situation, but before he knew it, his mouth open and he screeched loudly, "_Get up_!"

Japan froze and looked up at Italy, his fingers momentarily pausing over Prussia's convulsing form. "...I-Italy-san? What...what are you...?"

But the floodgates were broken. Without thinking about what he was saying, Italy found the words spilled senselessly out of his mouth, tumbling one over another in their haste to be heard. "G-Get up! You're _fine_, stop pretending like something's happening! You're…you're fooling no one, and we don't have time for this right now! Nothing's wrong with you or G-Germany, okay? So stop doing this, it isn't very nice and you're m-making me angry!"

Something dampened his cheeks, but Italy refused to admit that they were tears. He had nothing to cry over. It wasn't like anything was wrong. Prussia was just being an attention-whore as usual. Nothing was wrong. Nothing.

He clenched his fingers tightly into fists before crying again, "Stop it! We all know what you're doing! We all know what you're trying to do, and none of us are falling for it! Now come on and get up, we need to keep running away because we're still in danger!"

"Italy-san!"

A fat tear slipped into Italy's open mouth, carrying all of his despair with it. It tasted salty against his tongue – a taste that Italy knew he was going to grow to hate. He had always cried when he was frightened. That was nothing new. But there was something else about these tears that made him feel much worse than those tears had.

Something about these tears simply felt so much heavier, like they were carving rivulets into his cheeks. He became emptier and emptier the more that he shed. Usually crying would make him feel better. It allowed him to release his emotions, leaving him calmer. More ready for what was to come. More resigned. He could be happy again after he was rid of all his tensions. He could smile again after he cried, because…

Ah. Wait.

…It wasn't crying that made him feel better, Italy realized with a heavy sinking of his stomach. It wasn't the sobs and heaving of his shoulders that released and composed him. It was Germany.

It was his best friend, reluctantly patting him on the back, and muttering with slight embarrassment that he didn't think Italy was useless, and that it was okay if he messed up sometimes because everyone messed up sometimes and look, here, I'll let you make pasta for us after this and maybe we can invite your brother over, too, even though he hates me and always calls me a bastard. And then Italy would laugh, even though he was scared of war and scared of the world, and he would let Germany distract him from all the atrocities of humanity because he was his best friend, and he knew what he could and couldn't take. He let Germany act like a shield all this time, only peering around him occasionally to make sure that, yes, the world was still an evil and frightening place, before ducking back and hiding. He always hoped that maybe one day everything would be happy and peaceful and that he'd be able to go out and smile with everyone without having to keep Germany by his side out of paranoia.

And now he was dying. Germany was dying and Italy couldn't do anything because he was too cowardly to go back for him, or to even _admit_ that Germany was dying because he still clung desperately to him like a life raft, knowing he would drown without him. He was so afraid to lose Germany that he couldn't even acknowledge that he was in danger, and that he might never see him again. His legs suddenly gave out from under him. Italy's knees hit the leaf litter and small rocks coating the forest floor. He raised his hands and buried his face in them as if to shield himself.

_I'm the worst. I'm the absolute worst. I hate people like me. I hate myself._

Italy shook his head, moving his hands from his face to pull at his hair. His voice cracked as he continued to shout. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and stop the tears from flowing, but they dripped into his mouth anyway as bitter reminders of what he was trying to hide from. "J-Just shut up! I'm not falling for it! I'm t-too smart! Japan, make him shut up! He's taking advantage of me! He thinks I'm weak! I'm not weak! I can t-take care of myself too!"

"Italia-san..." he heard Japan whisper, before he sensed the Asian nation slowly shifting so he was facing him. He knew what he was going to say, and a part of him yearned to hear it, to confirm the nightmare, while another wanted to tear out his ears so he'd never have to. "He...he's not faking...I know that for sure...and you know it too...Germany…Germany-san is…"

"N-No," Italy broke in, rubbing harshly at his eyes with the back of his hand. Prussia's screams began to die down, until they were only whimpers and moans in the far distance of Italy's consciousness.

It sounded like the ex-nation was crying as well, broken sobs of German and something else slipping from between his lips, too distorted by his sorrow to be understood. Feliciano knew that Prussia was just being stupid - there was nothing to cry about. _Please tell me there's nothing to cry about. Please._ "P-Prussia…you're just being annoying. I want you to stop. You too, J-Japan. Did you two team up against me to prank me or s-something stupid like that? I d-don't fall for things like that, you know."

He spotted Japan shaking his head sadly before heaving a heavy sigh. Italy watched him as he folded his arms around Prussia's shoulders and shifted so he propped the spent nation on his own frame. "Feliciano-san…I…I know that you were close to him…we both w-were, but you have to open your eyes. You can't do this to yourself, or to us. Please. It's an insult to Germany-san's memory."

_Germany-san's memory_, Italy thought with a harsh pang. So that was it? He had already slipped out of the present and the future and had _already_ only become only a 'memory' to them. He wouldn't be around to clear his throat awkwardly whenever anyone made a bad joke, or to help reorganize everything the way he did best when this entire killing spree was over.

"P-Please, Italy-san. I need you. I…I can't do this by myself. I just…I can't."

Italy squeezed his eyes shut as a sense of helplessness washed over him. It was then that he realized he couldn't live like this. No one could. If denying the truth ripped away at his sanity after only a few minutes, then he would have to…he would have to accept the truth, just so he could keep moving forward. He couldn't lose his head now – not when there were so many nations that were now counting on him.

"J…Japan?" he found himself asking, his voice small and pained and so weak that it felt like it would crack. He kept his eyes shut to avoid looking into Japan's eyes in case he lost his ability to speak. His entire body shook but he made no effort to stop it. "Can you…c-can you just say it once? P-Please?"

"Say what, Italia-san?" Italy didn't need to open his eyes to hear the layers of pity caked onto his voice. It screeched across his skin like nails and rapped, hard, against his heart. _Germany wouldn't have to ask for what I wanted_, Italy couldn't help but think bitterly. _He would just know. He always kno…knew._ His fingers curled into fists as he took a deep breath.

"Say…say the t-truth, please. Just once. That's all I need. If _you_say it…then…I-I'll believe you."

He could hear Japan hesitating, and knew that he must look completely unstable with his eyes shut and his fingers digging into the earth as if that would keep him grounded. The blood pounding in his own ears began to thrum out a rhythm as Italy continued to control his breathing, preparing his body and mind for what he knew Japan was going to say, and which he was just so eager to deny. But he couldn't. Not anymore.

"…Italy-san…Germany-san's left us."

Italy tightened his grip on a large stick as he felt the words sink deep into his skin, leaving imprints and tearing him apart. But he had to withstand it. He couldn't afford to rot away, from the inside-out, like China. He took a deep breath. "Will…will he be coming b-back?"

"…No. Germany-san's left us. For good. I…I'm sorry, Feliciano."

* * *

America watched Germany's eyes dull – the steel, alert blue fading until they no longer gleamed or sparkled with determination or intelligence. The once-proud country slumped as all of his muscles relaxed in death. Yellow released his hold on Germany's hair enough to allow the body to crash forward, landing face-down on the ground.

"I'm sorry," America whispered immediately.

"You should be." Yellow wiped his gloves on his pants to rid them of blood.

"Not to you," America said. Something in his voice made the other killer look up and raise an eyebrow. The blond nation's eyes were closed as he took a few deep breaths. "I'm not sorry to you. _Never_ to you. I'm sorry _he_ had to die!" America's eyes snapped open, a new fire glinting inside them.

Yellow watched, unperturbed, as America's finger tightened on the trigger of his pistol. This was going to end in failure. As soon as Black had told him about Canada falling down that waterfall, he'd known what his leader's precious puppy had been up to. Canada had been willing to die to stop his brother, and America's insistence that he would return was what tipped him off that something was amiss. As Blue, America always had a plan.

But...with Canada's death, that plan had gone awry.

"Still got our sense of justice, don't we?" Yellow murmured softly. His eyes fixated on the gun pointed at his head. "You gonna play the hero then, love? Are you still waiting for that fanfare after you defeat that big, bad villain?" He watched America's blue eyes hone in on him as he pulled his hand out of his cloak and twirled his own gun around his index finger by its trigger guard.

"Sorry, but that's not it, exactly." America gaze followed Yellow's gun as the killer made a show of testing its weight in the palm of his hand before swinging it up and lining it up with America's forehead.

"Then tell me." Yellow tilted his head to the side, as if taking aim, before straightening again. He glanced up to see America glaring at him with the stoniest expression he had ever seen on the other country's face. It was then that the killer realized, with a jolt, that something about this scene was hauntingly familiar. Bitter laughter almost managed to bubble up from his lips at the sheer irony, but he swallowed it and continued, "Go on, then. Explain yourself. You owe at least that much to all those that you killed, don't you think?"

Yellow watched as America's eyes narrowed and his face tilted enough to where he could glare out at the other killer from over his glasses. "…I don't think you should worry about them right now, when I'm about to pop you right in that ugly head of yours."

A small, twisted smile twitched on Yellow's lips. "…Alright then," he admitted quietly. "Do it. You know I won't die. My capital isn't gone yet."

"I can slow you down, though," America said. "If I can't stop you here, I'll make sure the world knows what's happening. I'll tell them everything they need to know. I'm Black's favorite and I _will_ find a way to stop him!" America's finger tightened on the trigger, and for a moment, Yellow thought he was actually going to do it. That determined set in America's steely blue eyes told him all he needed to. America couldn't get to Black, so he was going for the only person who knew his plans to overthrow the SLK. It was all perfect.

Yellow braced himself for the shot.

A loud bang echoed through the clearing and Yellow couldn't help the sharp intake of breath that pierced his lungs. It wasn't until America collapsed on the ground, snarling and spitting with rage, that his mind began to catch up with him. Yellow raised his trembling hands and touched his chest. Nothing hurt. There was no wound.

…_No._

"God _dammit_!" America rolled over onto his back. His hand clutched at his side in attempts to quell the steadily flowing blood. It looked black in the dark, spreading over his fingers like shadows. He managed to lift his head and point the gun at the killer for a second time. Yellow dropped his own gun and took a step closer to America, one hand clenching into a tight fist.

"Do it," Yellow whispered to the fallen nation.

Another shot exploded and America's hand erupted into a shower of red. His pistol flew off into the brush, and with a howl of pain, America fell back, shouting obscenities and curses that made the Yellow's head spin. A puddle of blood began to spread from where America was laying. "Damn it…I should have known that you wouldn't play fair…" He broke off into a wheezing laugh, tinged with bitterness and anger.

Yellow looked down at America's body and swallowed a lump in his throat. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He lifted his head again when America grew quiet and readied himself. If he couldn't get what he wanted, at the very least he was going to have the last say.

He made his way across the clearing and tore the yellow mask clean off of his face, snapping the taut elastic that had held once it against his prized identity. He threw it onto the ground behind him with an almost childlike anger that he was sure America didn't miss. He was right. America broke into a smile from the ex-killer.

"Should have known it'd be you, Arthur. Whoever you have hiding nearby tell 'em…I said…" America groaned with pain. His face was so pale it rivaled the moon glaring down at them. "Tell 'em I said…nice shot."

England stared off into the trees where Purple waited. Anger welled in his gut, making his bottom lip tremble rage. More than anything else, he wanted to storm across the clearing and give Purple a good one right in the nose. But Purple wasn't dying, bleeding out onto the forest floor, and so England reluctantly turned back to America. "We don't have much time until you bleed out. Black loved you the most. Why did you betray us?"

The younger nation gave a small, weak-sounding snort. "I had to. I... had to stop this. England….you have to know this is insane." America's voice was just barely above a whisper and his eyes were beginning to dim. England wanted to curl down next to America and die with him. If Purple hadn't pulled the trigger...he knew for certain that he, himself, would never be able to even attempt such a thing. But he wouldn't tell America that. Arthur _might _tell him that. England wouldn't. And Yellow would rather burn in hell.

"You fooled us all in the end," he said instead, his voice only betraying him with the weakest tremor. "You had Canada dance like a puppet for us, making us think you were on our side, while the rest of the world thought you were a victim. You have Japan enraptured with you. It's rather poetic that you'll die a fraud with no true allies."

America let out a few short breaths that served as laughter. "Yeah…kinda sucks…but I did what I could." He coughed and his chest rose and fell with sharp wheezes.

"How did you get Canada to follow you so blindly? How were you able to have Japan defend you so blindly?" England asked, his hands twitching at his sides. _Not now, please. Not now. Just a few more moments. J-Just a few more…and then…_

"Reynolds…" America laughed again and turned his head away. "I…had t-to give Mattie a reason why I w-would turn into…a monster and I had to give Japan a reason... to protect me. I h-had to h-have…a catalyst. I told Canada...that Reynolds told my people...what I was...to blame me. Reynolds...was a brave guy... just not very smart."

Yellow – England – swallowed. "Very clever."

"I…also t-told Canada I-I helped B-Black fund this from the b-beginning." America grinned at this. "A-As if a hero would….do that! You know he forced me...he forced us all..."

"I know." England shook his head. "I'm guessing you wanted your poor brother to think you were losing your mind and suffering so he'd have to stay with you, no matter what." England paused, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch as America turned his head to the side and coughed violently. Even with his eyes closed, though, he could still see perfectly the blood that was being forced out from between America's lips. "You knew he would because he loved you. Maybe Canada wouldn't follow you into hell, but Matthew would."

"Greece…was to test that theory." America smiled, tilting his head back comfortably against the grass and looking up at the night sky, the stars reflecting off of his glassy eyes. "I…h-had to make sure…he'd choose me over any…thing."

"And that show at the cave was for the rest of us." England crossed his arms, opening his eyes to stare stubbornly in front of him. The trees. The branches. Anywhere but those eyes. "You wanted your fellow killers to think you were using your brother as a shield against the detectives. Then of course once it was all over, the detectives would think your brother drove you mad. God, you're twisted."

"I…had to make B-Black trust me," America said. "I…I h-had to m-make s-sure there were no risks when C-Canada was involved so I couldn't tell him…what I really had planned. I gave him hope that we would stop you…but I made it look like a lie. I c-couldn't risk Black finding out. I had to stop this…before…."

"Canada was supposed to come back in secret and then you'd tell him the truth and together you would take out Black."

"I-I couldn't take him a-alone….so I had to involve my brother. You don't understand…." America hissed through his teeth. His eyes were almost completely closed. "You haven't….seen what Black can…do…"

"So Canada thought you went insane because of your boss and people." England lifted his fingers to keep count. "The detectives think Canada's Blue while you're the helpless victim, and _we're _supposed to think you had it all planned out that way because you actually believe in what we're doing. I have to say, you put on quite a show! Japan is convinced you're innocent no matter how many times I beat the hints over his head." England sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "Then again, I expected no less. You had a lie planned for everyone, didn't you? In all actuality you were sacrificing the few to save the many." For once England couldn't help but smile at his little brother. "Bravo, Blue. None of them asked for it, but bravo. I'm sure Denmark and Iceland are absolutely _thrilled _that Norway was a pawn in one of your hair-brained schemes.

"Japan will probably _love _that Vietnam got her brains blown out for your 'just cause.' Let's of course not forget Finland!" He lifted his hands in the air in mock delight. "Sweden and that annoying little brother of mine are probably resting easy knowing his life didn't go to waste. I bet your states were scrambling over one another to be hacked apart because you're ideas are always _foolproof_! Then Cuba and Greece! My, how happy they must have been to allow your brother to disembowel and puree them! And I bet you're proud of the work you did on Canada! I bet you're so fucking _proud_ that you drove him insane with guilt over Reynolds, something _you_ set up, then brainwashed him to do your dirty work."

"Well…that's me." America sighed. "King…of stupid ideas…"

"But it was for the good of the world, you say! The end justifies the means now, does it?" England knelt down until he was glaring right into America's eyes. "Everything's okay, so long as you get _your_ happy ending, right? That's all you want, isn't it?"

England found himself searching for an answer in America's expression that he knew the other wouldn't give. But as he looked into those dimming blue pools, he spotted a fragment of something so unexpected and out of place made his entire ribcage constrict around his heart. His hands snapped forward to cup America's face as he leaned in closer, complete and utter disbelief staining over his features. He could see a corner of Blue's mouth twitch upward, just barely, in an extremely weak attempt at a smirk.

…_It couldn't be._

Somewhere in those beautiful, dying eyes, England had found a piece of Alfred. Buried so far underneath insanity and anger and a misplaced sense of justice, was Alfred. Blue was there, laughing in his face, yes, but under that was something that was so painfully familiar that England suddenly felt unable to breathe.

And just like that, he broke. Arthur had been waging war against Yellow, and Arthur had won.

"God Alfred, why?" Angry, desperate, furious, _genuine_ tears welled up in his eyes as England clenched his jaw and dug his fingernails into America's cheeks. Unable to hold the words back any longer, he dipped his head and hissed painfully, between is teeth, "If their deaths were for the good of the world, _why_ couldn't you _take one more_?"

Even through the oncoming death clouding America's expression, England watched realization bloom.

"...A-Artie...no...you..."

"You should have done it at Plymouth all those years ago, back when you were wild like your mum, that damn savage nation of natives. She found you first, after all." England's eyes burned and he pressed his lips together to keep from screaming.

"I…don't know what you're talking about…"

"You smashed the windows! Don't tell me you don't remember." America smiled up at him, but it wasn't one of remembrance. It was the kind of smile one wore to hide their sadness. England felt more of the strange emotion swirl with a very distinguishable anger following it. His voice grew louder, but the thought of being discovered didn't register in his mind anymore. "You hurt some settlers with your rampage. You did it for your mother! You did it for Native America!"

"That never happened." England's felt a jolt of shock through his body. Of…of course it happened. He remembered it so clearly. He remembered the talk with America after the incident. It was too clear not to be real. He could see America's grin turn into one of genuine pity. "Arthur…you're losing it… you poor bastard. T-Trying to m-make me look like the monster…you can't bear…to see yourself as. Back then…I could have n-never brought myself to h-hurt you like that…I'm actually disappointed you thought otherwise." America's eyes closed at last and he turned his face away. "Well, Mattie…promise is a promise…here I come…right behind…"

"You're lying!" England's hands slid down as he grabbed the collar of America's bomber jacket and half lifted America closer to his face. "You're lying! That happened I know it did! You were crazy from the beginning! You planned this out because you wanted to take Black's place!" America's head rocked limply with every rough jerk of England's arms. "You didn't want to stop him! I know that's true! I know it's true, because you can't be the hero! You couldn't have hated all this killing while I—" England stopped. America wasn't moving. His eyes were closed and that smile was still on his face.

He was gone and he'd taken the last word with him.

* * *

Hopefully, the stupid line brackets show up. I've noticed in the earlier chapters that they've all disappeared and we're too lazy to go back and fix them. Ugh. Anyhoodles, here's Lucky again:

**Second, can we just do an honorable mention to Miss Nora, who was going to do our shout-outs this chapter, but due to the psycho time we're posting this, we're not gonna bother asking her. Though iunno if Angel did them. If she did, give her a big hug. **

**Finally...my unnie told me to mention how she JUST SO HAPPENED to begin to sing the Star Spangled Banner right when America was dying. You can imagine my anguish. Especially when I told her what I was doing and how she SHOULDN'T BE SINGING THAT at that time. And then, of course, she only proceeded to sing louder. Through Skype. I didn't know if I wanted to throttle her first or bash my head against the wall. **

**So all in all, I'm spent, tea-deprived, and just gonna get to sleep. Hope you didn't hate this chapter. Peace out. **

**Angel, back to you. **

I really do want to thank you all. You guys are the bomb, if there are any of you left XD. Hopefully! Well, here's the shout outs!

**Violet911 , Jewer, EeveeLuver, Andeles, Regina Berry, SafetyScissors, Irken Invader Daz, pora, Hmm, Lololol, Arisa-chan, Yami-no-Hikari-7, Mihang, Bri Nara, Sakurainmymind, El Chica, HOLY CRAP, RedDaisies, , Anononon, Reijeux, SeafoamPurpleCurtains, SailorZeldatheLightAlchemist, 13 13, a. e. everdeen, Rei-chan, I Enjoy Lurking, Tully, APH1168kittens, Midnight Monochrome, HetalianEarth, Lost Friend, BOB, IForgotMyPassword, Shelbz, intricate-bindings, trolololol, carelessheart, DotTheAmazing, elsanox, SummonerAmaterasu, Owl, StrawRabbi, CookiesAndCreamsareAwesome, AnimeFoxyG6, TheDeepestEmeraldGreen, ShellyFooSho, Herr Nomnoms, Rainbow Glitter Tears, TheAwesomlyAwesomeHetaliaFan, Nevertrustaprussian, Selene of the Pure Moon, Keep Calm and Stay Heroic, , BradburyStreet, xXSubwayZoMbIeSxX, ChildofStorms, TalaSafire, Squidward, Random Troper, Foreign Language, Minako Hozuki, Her Diary, Elizabeth Blythe, pwnsome-duo-X3, Dr. Stilla Live, Nasu-chan luvs tomatoes, Verocat, therandomnessthatiam, Her-Bloody-Majesty, Black-Yami-Cat, o0XxGurenxX0o, NightWolfMoon, kiku-di1999, Xakia, xXIvana BraginskiXx, Annonomis ish, sky-hime7, Yume Ninja, Duckster's-Rave, Onyx Lacrymosa, TinaBanina96, EBIL DUSTBUNNY OF DOOOOM, angelsxdemons, Savannah Lee, Sunny-Blue-Sky, bleedingsmirk, pluckthefruit, avaflava1, Ill give flowers-for your life, AikoujOi, FMAlcheholic, Kayzz,** and...

**hyuugahealer3**

I think that's everyone. If not, I'm so sorry! 3 am WOOOOOTTTTTT!


	44. Pendulum

Pendulum: in which Japan tries to be philosophical, Italy needs a hug, Prussia also needs a hug, and England tempts people to punch him in the face before also needing a hug (although that hug is optional, seeing as he is still running around being king douche and apparently can act very well, don't worry, he just gets worse).

Just hug everyone, okay?

Hug everyone.

Also, happy freedom day.

Disclaimer: No own Hetalia. Yeah.

* * *

Japan stumbled on a root.

And like he was cued, Italy gave a startled yelp and clenched down harder around Japan's neck. The Asian gagged and nearly toppled to the ground; Prussian around his shoulder, Russian under his arm, and Italian on his back all coming down with him. But he managed, on the last second, to force the strongly protesting muscles in his legs to hold up the incredible weight.

"J-Japan, are you okay?" Italy asked fearfully as he bent his head completely over Japan's face, blocking the poor nation's vision with upset, upside-down brown eyes. Japan nearly fell again.

If he was any less of a dignified, cultured Japanese man, he might have told Italy that he found this absurd. Of course, he could understand Prussia being out of commission, what with his other half having just...passed away. Japan found that he couldn't quite believe that Germany really was down for the count, and felt only a hollow feeling in his heart when he tried to accept it. Somehow, he knew that he wouldn't quite be able to believe it himself until he saw Germany's own body.

And Russia...Russia was in too much pain to even _consider_ walking. Although the larger nation had tried to walk by himself beforehand, it had quickly become obvious that they only way they would even make it out of the forest in the next year was if Japan gave him a hand.

Japan also knew, very obviously, that Italy was suffering. Maybe Italy could put up a front before, acting strong and unafraid, but Japan knew that things could change for the worse now that Germany would no longer be with them. That's why he had allowed Italy on his back so they could keep moving forward - so he wouldn't have to feign a smile - and to give the heartbroken Italian a break. Japan had hoisted Prussia over his own shoulder for the same reasons.

Unfortunately, it seemed like he didn't quite predict what carrying three nations would do to himself. Though Japan was strong, as a nation had to be, he seemed to have forgotten that the three of them were not only over a full head taller than himself, but also happened to be European, which meant they weren't Asian.

And although not being Asian meant not being a lot of things, it meant that Italy wasn't as small and petite as Japan happened to be. Italy's legs, if he didn't clamp them so tightly around Japan's waist, were so long that they probably would have probably been dragging lines in the ground. And despite the fact that Japan trusted Italy as a comrade and as a friend, the feel of the Italian's thicker arms around his neck was alarmingly tight - so much that Japan feared that Italy flexing his nonexistent muscles would cut off all his oxygen.

In his mind, he wondered if maybe the carbs from all the pasta his dear friend ate on a regular basis were stabbing him in the back.

He wondered the same thing for Prussia, but with a variation of protein and alcohol instead.

He tried not to think about Russia. He already feared that his right arm was going to be dislocated for life. That, and he was worried that _thinking_ about Russia would mean reminding his already-numb body just how heavy that man actually was, which would _then_ lead his mind into temping him to drop Russia behind some tree and just gun it.

"I-I'm okay, Italy-san," Japan forced between pants, his reply coming just a few beats late. He made a quick pause to adjust his grip around Prussia's torso. "It's just...maybe if you're feeling a little better then you ca-"

"J-Japan, I can't feel my feet!"

The Asian sighed and deflated slightly, his poor, elderly back curving so much he feared he'd come out of this forest as a hunchback. "Maybe if you loosen your legs a bit," he mumbled halfheartedly, swaying dangerously as he began to start forward again.

A few minutes passed in silence, where Japan put all his effort of making sure that each cell in his body was working to keep his feet moving forward, one in front of the other. Russia must have passed out a while ago - the large nation was completely slack. He could feel Italy's irregular breath against his neck and, with effort, could hear Prussia's weak inhales rattling in his chest. It raised the hair on his neck.

Japan didn't know how long he walked, carrying his three friends. He didn't know what direction he walked in, either. Branches and twigs scratched violently at his unprotected face, till he could actually feel something wet sliding down his cheeks and dripping off the tip of his chin. He gave a second's thought to how utterly demonic he must look, but couldn't register any of the pain that was supposed to accompany scratches and scrapes. At that point, all his mind could register was moving forward. Was Germany.

Was America.

_...Alfred, please, please...if there's any god left in this world, please make sure that Alfred's okay..._

"Hey...Japan...?"

Japan turned his head just the slightest to the side when he heard Italy's weak sigh into his right ear. "Yes?"

"...I'm sorry that I'm still this useless." Japan stilled, for just a second, before hesitantly keeping forward. He said nothing as Italy bent his head and continued, "I...I tried to make myself useful when all this began. I did, I really did. But sometimes, it just strikes me - oh, if I figured out what this clue meant at this time, then this person would have been saved! Stuff like...stuff like that. Or maybe if I had been just a little stronger...or a little more attentive..."

"Italy-san, please, I'll have to ask you to stop there. None of this was your fault." But even as he said it, he felt like a broken record player. How many times had he uttered those words or heard them said since this nightmare began? America, it's not your fault. Germany, it's not your fault. England, it's not your fault. Exactly who's fault was all this, then? He needed a name to tag the guilt on, right?

Italy gave a weak laugh, almost as if he knew what Japan was thinking. "I just mean...look at me now. I can't even walk right."

Japan remembered it so clearly. When Italy had screamed and cursed and cried enough, when they all remembered that they still needed to move forward, Italy couldn't stand up. He tried - after falling back down promptly the first time, tried to push himself up or lean against a tree for help. Japan knew, maybe even before Italy did, that no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't be able to stand up anymore. Italy had struggled, though. He pushed and stumbled and whined at the back of his throat, but nothing worked. He simply couldn't manage to get a grip on the muscles in his legs. There were no signs of foul play, and Japan knew to blame it on grief for being the reason why Italy was so torn that he couldn't even function properly.

It frightened him. It made Japan realize just how much he had misjudged the relationship between Italy and Germany. Of course, he had assumed, like the rest of the world, that the two were just the living, breathing example of 'opposites attract'. But he knew better now. They shared something that had been so powerful, so indescribable to even the two of them that the loss of that bond rendered Feliciano completely and utterly defeated.

"I can't believe...can't believe I can't even walk right without him," Italy laughed bitterly. Japan heard the thick quality in his friend's voice again, and was expecting the wetness that began to dampen his neck and hair. "It's...it's actually pretty embarrassing, right? Was I that dependent because of him? W-Will I not even be able to live properly without knowing that he's out there, s-somewhere, eating those horrible sausages and b-brewing beer in his basement...?"

Japan thought for a moment, wincing as a whiplashing branch snapped into his cheek. "...Under normal circumstances, Italy-san, I would point out your wonderful storytelling abilities to you." That sentence surprised Italy enough to where Japan could feel the sniffles still from behind him. Undaunted, he continued, "And I'd tell you that Germany-san isn't dead. That he's still with us. That we can keep him alive through words and stories and drawings and every imaginable form of art that the world will accept from us. That we don't all have to be robbed of someone so precious and let them fade away. I would tell you that we will save everything that makes him, him, and capture enough of his essence so that those of us still trapped here on this miserable earth will remember him forever, without a single lost detail."

"But?" Italy asked, his voice fearful. Japan's eyes darkened.

"But I don't have the freedom to do that right now. We are, essentially, at war. Like any of our own soldiers, we must fight. If you think about it, this is the one war that can be fought only by us, and not through our people. Sure, our people may assist us, but the Seven Little Killers is a problem that the personifications of the nations of our world have to solve. It is because this is a war, Italy-san, that we must let Germany die." Some of the fire fades from Japan's eyes, and his voice softens slightly as he continues. "If this was any other time, in any other place, I would face you and tell you that revenge and acting out _because_ of revenge is not a permanent solution. But this is not any other time. We won't let Germany-san's death be in vain. We'll avenge him, I will promise you that. It is because I know that Germany-san is dead, that he won't be coming back, that I won't see his guiding smile anymore that will make me fight with more vigor and ferocity. And Italy-san...with that extra boost that Germany-san has given us, I am going to _tear apart those killers_."

Italy was silent for a few moments, in which Japan wondered if maybe he had passed out because of stress and despair. But then, Italy said something so alarming, with such a bitter giggle, that Japan nearly collapsed on the spot.

"I...I want to pump them all full of lead."

And then Italy buried his face in the back of Japan's neck and began to tremble and shudder and choke, though the Japanese man wasn't sure if it was with laughter or sobs. The despair in rage cleared in Japan's mind, leaving only the dullest tang of fear.

"I want to...I want to murder them all." Japan nearly fell, again, when he heard Italy's soft whisper into his collarbone. He only barely managed to keep moving forward, Prussia shifting very lightly in his grip, as the shadows in the dark danced and flickered in his peripherals. "I want to rip out their throats. I want to drown them in blood. I want to tear into them until they're unidentifiable. I want them to scream in agony. I want them to watch their loved ones die, and see how they feel about that. I want them to apologize, and then use those words to fashion a noose for them to go hang themselves with. I want them to plead and beg for mercy as I slowly gouge out thei-"

"_Italy-san_," Japan broke in softly, his voice shaking.

Never, _never_ could he ever imagine sweet Feliciano, who everyone perceived as the innocent child of the bunch, spouting such horrible words. In that moment, Japan had feared Italy. He had feared that the Italian would truly lose it, and that he would become something far worse than whatever the Killers had in store for them. He had believed Italy _would_ be worse.

"...I...I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry I don't know what's gotten into me. Japan...I'm...I'm just so tired..."

And he suddenly sounded like it, too. As if that moment of mania had drained everything out of him, Italy gave one last shudder before dropping his head onto Japan's shoulder and stilling. Japan awkwardly stepped over a log on the ground and wet his lips.

"Italy-san...please...remember this." He felt Italy's head turning slightly on his shoulder - a sign that the other was listening. "I believe...I believe that we will destroy the killers. However, we must make an agreement now. We must agree to never descend down to their level."

Italy gave the faintest ghost of a laugh. "But Japan, killing _is_ descending down to their level."

"No, enjoying it is. We're nations, Italy-san. Killing is something that we have done for a very long time, but is also something that is unavoidable for us. Killing without reason - killing for fun, for pleasure, is when we descend down to their level. As long as we retain our humanity, we will always be better than them. Promise me you'll never be their equal."

A warm breath ghosted past Japan's collarbone, and he took that as Italy's sigh. "I promise, of course I promise."

"And I do, as well," Japan said softly. Then, the slightest smile crossed his face and he opened his mouth to propose that perhaps the three of them afterwards could possibly call another world meeting, maybe just to see if any of the other nations would like an update when-

"Oh, how touching."

Japan froze. That voice. That horrible, altered, alien voice. It was the sound of someone speaking through a voice modifier. He looked up, slowly, and then immediately wanted to slam his face into the nearest tree trunk.

In his dark conversations with Italy, he hadn't noticed where he was going.

And right in front of him, through the thinnest cover of just a single remaining layer of trees, were the moonlit figures of the Killers standing in the center of a large, forest clearing.

Japan spun around immediately, with the full intention of getting the hell out of there, only to see a tall figure in a eerily glittering red mask standing in his way, knife extended to rest right at where his heart was. He could almost feel the killer smile through the layer of plastic and sequins.

"Go on," Red said, his voice-modified command screeching from between the open hollow of a mouth on his mask.

"Japan, you have no choice," Italy whispered in his ear. Japan hated to admit that he was right. His teeth clenched, he turned around again and pushed past the last branch to reach the open clearing, all the while feeling the light press of Red's knife into his back.

He hesitated at the edge. His eyes darted to the side, calculating his ability to make a run for it.

"Don't even think about that, love, we can be far more merciless than you've seen so far. Just come."

Unwillingly, Japan moved forward as cautiously as he possibly could. As he neared the center of the circle, he slowly began to make out other shapes in there. It seemed like all of the killers stood present around the edge or sprawled haphazardly in at the sides. At the center of the clearing sat a few large rocks, the perfect size for sitting, and a large, misshapen mound. Strangely enough, while a few other killers were perched on a rock, a lone killer seemed to be sitting at the top of the mound.

"Why don't you set Prussia, Russia and Italy down on the ground? You look like you could use the rest," the killer from the top of the mound spoke. He tilted his head just slightly, and Japan caught a flash of yellow from under the hood.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to hang on to them," Japan replied stonily, making sure to smooth over his features so not even an eye twitch gave away how frightened and furious he felt.

"No, I _insist_," Yellow pressed, "Really, we won't harm them. We're not going to kill you, either - in fact, none of you. Don't worry, we'll all be on our best behavior. Killer's oath."

Japan's eyes hardened, but he didn't budge until he felt that knife from behind digging far enough into his back that he could feel the pain from the tip. "Do as he says," Red uttered, his voice taking on a sing-song quality with the device he spoke through.

Japan stumbled forward a few more steps before giving in and setting Russia and Prussia on the ground, leaning them against the rock that was the farthest away from the killers. He felt Italy clambering off his back too, and was going to help his friend sit down when Italy gently pushed his hand away. "I'm coming with you," he said quietly. Japan hesitated, but nodded, helping the Italian to his feet by keeping an arm on his waist. Feliciano was leaning on him, his legs shaking violently, but he was still standing.

The two of them stepped forward, towards the killer sitting on the mound. Japan still had no clue what it was, but as he got closer, he realized a horrid stench was emitting from it.

Yellow seemed to think the same thing. He turned to Purple, who was seated on the rock on his direct right, and asked for something in a low enough voice that Japan couldn't hear. A second later Purple pulled something out from behind the rock and passed it to Yellow. The killer didn't hesitate to take it and spray it on the mound beneath him.

It was then that Japan realized what it was.

Cologne.

Yellow was spraying cologne. On a pile of bodies.

Japan's heart stopped, and he couldn't take another step ahead. Italy seemed to have caught on a second before him, because he was standing a half-step behind him, shaking so hard that Japan feared he would literally fall apart.

"I-Italy...that's..."

"_Germania_," Feliciano choked.

Sure enough, they had gotten close enough to where Italy and Japan could make out the faces or limbs of the bodies on the mound. A head with blond hair and misty blue eyes lay at the middle of the pile, mouth slightly agape and blood literally coating every inch of his face, turned black in the night. Japan found that his mind had ground to a halt - so much that he couldn't feel any anger or disgust when a large fly crawled out of Germany's gaping mouth and flew half-heartedly around the other bodies. There was a brunette under Germany - someone with long brown hair, whose face looked to be literally smashed into itself. Even then, however, Japan could see as plain as day that it was Lithuania, crushed and broken. And the above the two of them-

In that moment, the world stopped turning for Japan.

Because he recognized that blond hair. He recognized those sky-blue eyes, those high cheekbones, that long nose, that sharp jaw, thin lips, pale lashes, white teeth, sunken cheeks...

_I'm so happy I met you._

"...A-Al...fred...?"

He felt Italy tearing out of his grip and falling to his knees, screaming in a language that he can't understand or hear. Something pulled harshly at his own hair till it burned so badly in his head that he couldn't think, and it wasn't until he felt his own hand pull back with a clump of midnight strands tangled around his fingers that he realized it was himself. That pain jostled him back to reality slightly, but only enough for him to make out Yellow humming, his voice sounding muffled and distant, "Looks like they're taking it well."

Japan didn't even think Italy was crying out in Italian anymore. It sounded just sounded like background noise of gibberish and animalistic screeches. He couldn't focus on anything – could only stare, speechless, into Alfred's blank, half-lidded eyes.

_You're too cute, Japan._

Japan wanted to go to him. He wanted to stretch out a hand and brush it by Alfred's face, to make sure that this wasn't a trick. He wanted to hold his face between his hands and stare into those blue eyes and _will_ them back to life. He wanted him to smile again. He wanted him to laugh again. He wanted him to…t-to…

_I-It can't be over…not like this…Alfred, this isn't a hero's death…_

"Being sat on?" Japan looked up when he heard Yellow's voice and realized that his eyes were blurry. Yellow's own eyes were boring holes into his skull, like they were planting something dark and cold into Japan's soul. "Of course I know what you're thinking, love. Such a heroic little child, how could he meet an end like that? If it's any consolation, he put up an excellent fight before going down." The killer reached down and patted America's shoulder. "He's very comfortable to sit on as well, you'd never believe."

And he couldn't even fight back. Japan couldn't so much as open his mouth. His gaze slid back down to America, back down to the one person that he would have torn the world apart for.

_I…I want to die._

"Yellow, show some pity." The voice came from a green-masked killer, who was sitting across from Purple. Another killer was sitting next to Green – one with a long, hot-pink wig – who looked like she was picking through her hair as if bored.

"Hard to show what you don't have, love," Yellow sighed. He straightened slightly, foot crushing down on Lithuania's leg and elbow resting on America's stomach, as his eyes sought out a point behind Japan. "And what do we have here? I think we're about to witness another touching reunion."

Japan felt his head turn robotically to see that Prussia had left his spot beside his rock and was crawling, weakly, towards them. He wanted to open his mouth and demand to know what the hell the ex-nation was thinking, but the muscles in his mouth failed him and he could only watch, emotionlessly, as Prussia's arms gave out and he crumpled to the ground.

"And stay down!" one of the killers behind Japan laughed.

But he didn't. Japan watched silently as Prussia struggled with his noodle-arms for a few moments before continuing forward again, agonizingly slow. All of the killers had hushed and the clearing was silent, save for Italy's unintelligible sobs. Soon enough Prussia had crawled, fallen, and struggled far enough to where he was right next to Japan and Italy. He didn't look at Japan – save for a quick, emotionless stare – before placing his hand on Italy's shoulder.

"West would hate to see you like this because of him, you know," he whispered, loud enough to where Japan could hear but the killers couldn't. Italy stilled slightly, but still breathed too fast and shook like a leaf.

To Japan's surprise, Prussia continued to crawl past them and towards the pile of bodies. Yellow seemed to be regarding him coldly but said nothing as Prussia finally reached the base of his sick little throne and reached up to place his hand gently against Germany's neck. He began to shake as well, but not nearly as violently or uncontrollably as Italy was.

"My…My little brother…who would've thought it would end for you like this, huh?" Prussia said with what Japan realized was feigned cheerfulness, despite the fact that his voice kept cracking as he spoke and he sounded like tears were budding behind his eyes. "Stabbed and shot and sat on like a dog…like you don't matter…" Prussia bent forward, and Japan couldn't see what he was doing from where he stood, immobile, but he guessed correctly that Prussia had pressed his lips to Germany's forehead. If he didn't have such good hearing and if the clearing hadn't gone completely silent, he would have completely missed what Prussia said next.

"It's okay…even though you look like this…I still think you're awesome."

And then he crumpled at the base of the mound, arms wrapped around himself and wheezing – with sobs, with grief-stricken laughter, with pain – Japan would never know and Prussia would never tell. Italy bent over at that moment as well, his head pressing into the grass as his hands slid over his face, covering the new sobs that bubbled up from the back of his throat.

Only Japan stood there, silent, with no reactions other than the constant tears sliding down his face.

Yellow sighed, from his place on the mound, and slid off of the bodies. He began to walk towards Japan, who still couldn't move, and pulled something out from behind his back before waving it casually in front of him as he spoke, "Don't think that we showed ourselves only for the sake of dumping your three friends back in front of you, we have more important things to take care of." Yellow stopped in front of him and jerked Japan's arm out from his side to slap a tape into his hand. "_This_ is what we're here for. Since you three – four, sorry, Russia – don't seem to be in the mood for talk, I'll say it only once. The tape that you're holding right now, Japan, is one of the most important clues that you guys have missed thus far. Ask Italy, if you want to; when he and Germany were back in China's house, trapped in my nice little game, there was a safe in the bathroom. Of course they were losing, so they didn't have the chance to retrieve what was in the safe." Yellow tapped at the tape in Japan's hand. "_This_ is what was in that safe. I'm sorry that you couldn't have found it earlier, it would have saved a few lives."

"A few?" Japan found himself whispering, his eyes locked on the black rectangle in his hands.

"Oh, so he speaks," Yellow snapped. "Yes, like I said, love, a _few_. Pity you didn't find it then, but better late than never. Now, if you'll excuse us, we've all had a long night, and quite frankly I can't stand the sight of any of your _weeping_ anymore. Good night to you all."

And then, just as quickly as they appeared, the Seven Little Killers slinked back into the shadows of the night, leaving four living nations in the clearing with three dead ones.

* * *

"You've _lost track of them_. You have got to be kidding me! You were supposed to have hospital personnel following them at all times! How could you have 'lost track of them'?"

"I-I heard from the nurse that stepped out with Mr. Braginsky and his sister lost sight of them after they turned into the trees. You must understand, Mr. Kirkland, that our forest is extremely-"

"I don't bloody care! That nurse of yours should have immediately turned around and alerted the hospital that there were patients missing! Because of her, we now have Ivan and Yekaterina out in _God knows where_ in the _middle _of the night while there are _murderers _running around! And let's not forget those other six idiots that decided to run off after them without the common sense to tell others first! Altogether that is a total of eight missing people! _Eight_!"

"Mr. Kirkland, I understand you're upset, but we've currently got all available staff members out searching for them and I'd appreciate it if maybe you could just give us some time and perhaps sit down and have a coffee-"

"I _will_ not be sitting down and having some _coffee_! I'm going to go out there myself – you people cannot be _trusted_, apparently, to even take care of one crippled patient and his elder sister, and everything must be done by – _Francis, for the love of God, get your hand off my arse_!"

"The beautiful lady is right, Arthur. Let's go get a coffee while we're waiting. Ludwig, Alfred, and Kiku are with them, and if anything, I trust those three to take care of themselves. Even though I'm slightly skeptical about Feliciano and Gilbert…as long as they stay, they'll be fine."

Italy stumbled across the sliding glass doors at the front of the hospital and looked up when he heard two very familiar figures having what looked to be a very heated argument with the poor receptionist at the desk. Both England and France were wearing long coats and had windswept hair, though England's was mostly hidden by a black fedora, and looked like they had just returned from walking around outside. It was only after looking at them that Italy remembered that it was cold at all. He hadn't had the liberty to feel cold all night, but once his body recalled the sensation, he was freezing.

He was leaning heavily against Japan, since his legs were still weak, but he was helping support Prussia at his other side while Russia was hoisted onto Japan's back. The tape was tucked safely into Italy's boot. They had all agreed, silently, to watch it with the remaining nations during the world meeting that they were going to call soon.

Italy was still blinking, trying to adjust his eyes to the blinding light of the hospital, when he heard France's girly shriek as he spotted them. Before he knew it the other two nations had run over. Prussia was pulled from his side and laid down across a few plastic chairs in the waiting room, while Russia was helped towards running nurses so they could return him to his own room upstairs. Japan and Italy were forced down next to each other across from Prussia, and it was only a flurry of footsteps later that France's face swam into his vision.

He was panting hard and holding two bottles of water. "Drink," the elder demanded as he pushed one of the bottles into Italy's hands. He spoke with more force than Italy was used to hearing from the carefree nation, but instead of worrying him, the sound comforted him slightly. Slowly, Italy twisted the cap free and let some water dribble into his mouth. Apparently he had been thirsty, too. France nodded, satisfied, and moved on to Japan to do essentially the same thing.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" England asked as he jogged out from a separate hallway, where he must have gone to call more nurses. He was also out of breath as he crouched down in front of Italy, close enough to keep their conversation private but far enough away that he didn't encroach on his personal space. "Arms and legs? Chest? Head?"

"Heart," Italy replied weakly, his eyes lowering to where he was staring at the bottled water he held in his lap.

He closed his eyes for a second and could see them – the three bodies laid out, one next to each other after the killers had fled. They had all known that they wouldn't be returning to find the bodies again, and that this would be their last chance to say goodbye. Italy, accepting this, had stumbled around the edges of the clearing, pawing around trees and foliage until he managed to scramble together three, pathetic bouquets of wilting, white lilies. He had laid one on Lithuania, the flowers splayed strategically to block out whatever it could of his mangled, crushed face. Germany's he placed on his stomach, moving his arms so it looked like he was clasping them. After Italy wiped off as much of the blood as he could off his best friend's face, he almost looked like he was sleeping.

America's bouquet he passed to Japan, but he didn't see where Japan had placed it.

"Heart?" England asked, only the briefest moment of confusion flickering through his eyes before he suddenly became very, very pale. He exhaled, weakly, and slid his hand up to his face. "Italy…there's…is it G-Germany?"

Italy didn't look up as he nodded.

He noticed that when England next spoke, it was with just the lightest hint of panic. "And…And so that means _all_ of the others…they…?"

Italy felt Japan look up from beside him, but didn't glance himself to check. "Ukraine is one of the killers. She's conspiring with them, apparently acts as a killer called 'Orange'," Japan rattled off, his voice flat. "Belarus is still missing. We don't know where she went. Germany-san is dead. Lithuania-san is dead. America is...America is dead."

This time Italy did look up, but only because he spotted something moving in his peripherals. England had stood up, sharply, his movement jostling the hat off of his head. It fell silently onto the ground behind him, completely unnoticed by its owner as the blonde stared disbelievingly at Japan.

"America is dead?"

Japan only nodded.

England didn't move. For a second, Italy believed that he had died right on the spot, since he could practically hear the other nation's heart grinding to a stop. England's eyes were staring holes into Japan, wide and disbelieving, before they slowly began to narrow. A multitude of emotions flashed across his face, quick as lightning. Denial. Horror. Anger. Confusion. Despair. Contempt. Acceptance. Anguish. Fury.

And then a heartbroken look so familiar to Italy that it almost felt like he was staring in a mirror and seeing himself, as he must have looked back when he stood in that clearing.

France was at his side in an instant, hands sliding against the side of England's waist and along the back of his head as he hugged the other nation to his chest almost protectively. He bent his head by England's ear, and Italy could soon hear muffled comforting words in French that he wasn't even sure England himself would be able to understand. It was terrifying for Italy to see someone as stoic as England receiving comfort from anyone, let alone France. If all of the stronger nations were crumbling as well, what was to be said about the weak ones like himself?

But then Japan sat up straighter, every muscle in his body tense. "Something's wrong," he uttered.

And he was right.

Because, before any of the four nations knew what was happening, England stiffened, inhaled sharply, and crumpled to the ground, completely unconscious.

No one moved.

"…W…W-What…?"

France dropped to the floor as if Italy's cry had shocked him back into their world. He quickly pulled England's head into his lap, bending over and firing questions at him with unmistakable panic in his voice as if the other nation could hear him.

Japan shot to his feet. "Turn on the television!" he ordered the receptionist sharply. The woman stopped her gaping and them and scrambled around on the desk for the remote to the television set hanging over the waiting area as Italy sank down to the ground beside France, hands shaking as he pressed them to England's skin. He felt clammy and was quickly becoming unnaturally colder and paler, as if he was fading away by the second.

A static _pop_, and then the small television sprung to life above their heads. Two women were chatting with each other, one an interviewer and the other a pop idol.

"Change it to the news!" Japan demanded.

The receptionist fumbled with the buttons on the remote, holding it level to her eyes, before the numbers slid onto the screen and the scene changed.

Everything was spoken in Chinese, but the three nations didn't need subtitles to guess what that horrifying mushroom cloud towering over the city skyline meant. It was at that same time that Italy realized Japan must have known what was going on much sooner than either him or France, since it would not have been his first time witnessing such a thing.

They could only watch as two more atomic bombs were dropped on London, powerless to do anything to help.

* * *

I'm so sorry if this chapter wasn't what you were looking for. To be honest, I feel like it was pretty slow, and pretty poorly done. Partially because I apparently was half-asleep when I wrote this entire thing, and I don't even know.

Tomorrow I'll get Angel to check this, guys, I promise. It'll make more sense.

Also the next chapter will be more awesome, to make up for this one.

SHOUT OUTS TO BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE: (which our lovely mascot Nora would do if she wasn't crashing on sugar, that silly thing) (And FF's new Guest thing pisses me off, what am I supposed to say now?)

_Guest1, Guest2, Guest3, VengefulMothSlayer, Cheerful Black Rose, Max-chan, Guest4, TrebleTwenty, Torsamors, toguetherwefight, Black rose, Rainbow Glitter Tears, Fredericha, Anonymous1, AirJuvy, Angel-chan Desu, Chelseaj500 _(I see you, girl)_, Eldeweiss, Guest5, Painted Scales, Guest6, CerberusLoadout, Longlive Imagination, Sleepless Motive, Guest7, Purplepancakes21, TsubakiNakamura, Silvertine T. Beleriand, Oceanfur, MintyDaze, Peter Kirkland, Recluse, none the wiser, Ayane458, Kleptogirl, clarinet97, Natela, TheRavingFangirl, Marissa, ririkutto, Yoko Death, Voltage, EosTheDawn, Irken Invader Daz, loveless Asuka, lullabyemyuu, CandyThief, Aleya Slade, xThornyRosex, angelsxdemons, Regina Berry, Yume Ninja, I Enjoy Lurking, A Shy Anon OO, Sakurainmymind, InChengdu, Herr Nomnoms, TheRavingFangirl, BrooklynBabbii, Nora, Bambi Birthday, Nasu-chan luvs tomatoes, SchemingAlchemist, MeadowLark449, AikoujOi, Tokio Amarfi, xRandom1x, TheDeepestEmeraldGreen, Keep Calm and Stay Heroic, pwnsome-duo-X3, I KNEW IIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTT _(You're the best, did you know that?)_, therandomnessthatiam, BradburyStreet, YOOHOO'79, Masked Pikachu, HetalianEarth, , elsanox, ashadeyfigure, Kayzz, MayFlowerxxx, .x, Sexy Can of Paint, pora, Bakunawa, Pasta Loving Masochist, Yami-no-Hikari-7, CanYouHearTheVoices, Kezone, Violet911, Nevertrustaprussian, pluckthefruit, SeafoamPurpleCurtains, LupinandHarry, Dr. Silla Live, NightWolfMoon, Gilbird-For-President, Mihang, endlessArbitrary, Under the Piano, HeroicVal-Rye, Mai Sachiyuki, ThatPurplyThing, Deprivation, EmoLollipop, AikoujOi, MagicRoxSox, DotTheAmazing, intricate-bindings, Miki.G Aru, Natsuko-chan, Aurazelia, Alex, Hino-Of-The-Dawn, TinaBanina96, EeveeLuver, Mixle, Savannah Lee, SafetyScissors, Firekat Archer, aaaaaaaaaaaaand~_

_theboywiththebread!_


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